Our Masks Shall Fall
by Pirate-on-Fleet-Street
Summary: Sequel to I'm Not What I Look Like. When a new enemy rises, Jack and Elizabeth are forced together on a journey that will give them the chance to make ammends or kill each other trying.  Old faces present, a new adventure.  Potential Sparrabeth.
1. Prologue

**Dear Readers, I would like to thank those of you who have read and reviewed the first part of this story. For those who have not, please take a look at I'm Not What I Look Like, as this will make little sense if you don't.**

**At Mervailles, the island Dorian is from, Elizabeth drugged the family who lived there and escaped when her crew (Tai Huang) came to find her. After Elizabeth nearly sunk _The Pearl, _Jack followed Elizabeth and Dorian to Singapore, where they were looking for Mistress Ching. ****The last chapter left off with Ching, Dorian, Jack and Elizabeth on board **_**The Empress. **_

_**~Prologue~**_

_We take our places and when the chairs stop grinding against the deck, Ching's lips crack open in speech._

_The tension in the room presses us all into our seats as we wait for her voice to break it._

"There is an army building against us."

Jack snorts and the tension does break. "I've heard that one before. In the end, the farmers put down their pitch forks and fled home rather than face me."

"What?" Dorian turns to look at him.

"_Jack," _I warn.

"As much as I would love to help you ladies, I'm out on this one." Jack rises to his feet and lifts his coat off the empty chair beside him. He drops several rings out of his pockets in the process and frowns as they scurry over the table onto the floor.

"Coward," Dorian coughs.

"What was that?" Jack stops with his coat half on his shoulders, reaching for his hat.

"You were all for us working together two minutes ago," Dorian continues. "Two seconds ago," he corrects himself.

"That was before I realized Mistress Ching here is out of her mind. And just how much you smell like..." Jack sniffs superiorly.

"Soap?" Dorian provides. "It's fairly cheap if you're interested."

"Perhaps if you gave her a chance to speak," I suggest. Jack scowls at Dorian. He glances at the cabin door, indecision evident on his face. He plops himself back down in his chair, mumbling to himself. I slide a ring that had landed in my lap over the table to him. He ignores it.

"You are lucky I am a patient woman, Jack Sparrow," Ching turns her gaze on him, the stern set of her lips demonstrating how unimpressed she is. "As I was saying... There is a man who runs a crew of the finest killers. Not an army, really, but a guard. They have built a fortress, and we must find it."

"This is beginning to sound like a poem," Jack mutters. "Here's a thought," he raises a finger, "you should be a storyteller." He points at Ching, wagging his finger in the air.

I find my face in my hands, my eyes shut. I feel like laughing, if only to feel the relief of some of the stress I've been feeling. My head has been pounding for days, my stomach rolling on occasion. Dorian had said it might be the side effects from the drugs he had given me.

"What could this guard possibly want from Pirates?" I ask, trying to keep the discussion moving forwards instead of sideways. Sideways is often where a conversation ends up when Jack is a part of it.

"The sea," Ching says.

"Everyone has access to the sea," Dorian is quick to shake his head.

"If this man who controls these men has the sea, he has the pirates," Ching continues.

Silence.

"What do pirates have?" Ching encourages.

"Ships," Dorian says.

"Gold," Jack offers.

"Yes, yes. That may be it," she nods.

I lift my head from my hands and look at the woman sitting at the head of the table.

My table, come to think of it...

"You mean you don't know?" I ask, incredulous. This whole thing is starting to sound like a joke.

"It is not knowing that has forced me to bring us all together, here," Ching replies.

"Supposing you're right, how would targeting all pirates accomplish anything?" I voice my scepticism. "If this man wins his war, he won't have anything left to rule, or take. He'll have to kill every one of us. And you can't make hundreds of lawless men bow to you by threatening them, he would have no other choice."

Ching smiles patiently. "How is it that they bow to you, Mrs. Turner? You have yet to threaten me."

I pause. "The code dictates it. I am in charge. I need only threaten people who violate that. Let us not get sidetracked anymore; this has nothing to do with me. We need to figure out how this man intends to accomplish—"

"It has everything to do with you," Jack sits up, a sudden revelation sparkling in his eyes. "That's why she's here, isn't she?" he turns to Ching.

"Will someone please include us in this thought?" Dorian interjects. He sounds as annoyed as I'm becoming.

"You're the Pirate King," Jack points a finger in my face and I narrow my eyes, fighting the instinct to recoil.

"Thank you for remembering," I smirk.

"Kill you and the game is won," he says slowly, fingers going to one tip of his moustache. He grins.

Hopefully because he was the one to put two and two together.

Ching nods grimly. "Kill the King and you have the kingdom... In this case."

I shut my eyes again, fingers going to my temples. I knew the world was out to get me.

~*o*~

"How is it you know of any of this?" I ask, keeping my frustration toned down.

"A letter," Ching says darkly.

"From who?"

"It does not say. Only that things will be changing and we must all accept these changes. It mentions forces gathering, and a leader that we will bow to."

"Why was this sent to you?" I ask, trying to remain open-minded.

"It is for you," Ching says.

"Why was it not delivered to me?"

"I am delivering it to you," she snaps. I shut my mouth. "You will have it later."

"I fail to see of what use Mr. Long is," Jack says, moving on.

"And I fail to see what you're here for, Mr. Sparrow," Dorian retorts.

"Captain," Jack breathes.

"Captain Sparrow has the compass we need," Ching smiles, yellow dimples appearing in her cheeks as she does so.

Jack sits back in his chair, finally plucking the ring off the table. "I have no such compass."

"Yes you do," Dorian argues, sighing.

"It is no secret amongst the brethren, Sparrow," Ching continues to smile. "I know you better than you think."

Jack grimaces. "How 'bout we answer my question then. Dorian Long is not at all a pirate, least of all a Pirate Lord. What does he have to do with all of this?"

"I think the lines between pirate and non-pirates have become a little blurry, don't you think?" I address Jack. He glances between the two of us and looks away.

"Pick sides then," he growls. I raise an eyebrow, but leave it at that.

"Would you like the answer or not?" Ching's voice turns all eyes back to her. "Elizabeth Turner is here because she is the King of the Pirate Lords, and most likely the main target. She has rights to enter other Pirates' domains that we do not. Jack Sparrow has the compass that points to what we want, as well as the fastest ship in the Caribbean and the most ridiculous luck any pirate has ever heard of. Dorian Long has more charts than I've ever laid hands on, as well the numbers we may need to go up against our enemy, and the supplies. The leader of this army- the enemy- is someone Dorian thinks may be connected to him. He also owes me a favour."

"Numbers?" I turn to Dorian, mind going back to Eric and Liam. Their smiles in my mind make me shudder.

The corner of his lips twitch. "I have contacts. And men ready to train and pick up back at Mervailles."

"But there weren't—"

"The slaves, Elizabeth. Not the men you met." He frowns.

"No," I shake my head. "Out of the question. I will not have slaves fighting for us, for me, for anyone where I can stop it."

"I agree," Jack raises a finger.

"They aren't my slaves," Dorian puts his hands up in a defensive position, "which is why they will _willingly_ fight for me or even for you if they heard of what you did, Elizabeth. Not as slaves, but free men."

"What did she do?" Jack asks. Even the thought of the drugs makes my head spin, my stomach clench.

"Can we focus on what's going on right at this very moment?" I snap. "We can catch up later."

"Yes," Ching says, "there will be time for talk. Now we must make a decision," she clears her throat. "We have three ships with us now. _The Black Pearl—_"

"Actually, she's getting repairs done. We went through a hurricane getting here," Jack winces. I look away from him in guilt.

Dorian rolls his eyes. "There was no hurricane, idiot. There wasn't a rough storm. I thought you had to know a thing or two about the weather to become captain of a ship."

"Hurricane Elizabeth," Jack corrects, pointing a finger at him.

I wish looks could kill. "Are you _trying _to start something again?"

"Who...me?" Jack jabs a finger at his chest. "No luv. The last time I tried to start something with you, it got me killed."

I pause. _Let it go, Elizabeth, let it go._

"I'm taking my ship," I switch tracks again. "Dorian's is perfectly in shape as well. Seeing as neither of you have your own ship," I look at Ching and Jack, "you can both share the one Jack brought with him."

"Let's leave that one here," Jack disagrees. "It's incredibly slow and too small for two captains."

"Every ship is too small for two captains when you're one of them," I argue.

"I will not sail that thing."

"Fine," I roll my eyes.

He pauses. "Hm?"

"Fine," I repeat.

"Fine?"

"Leave it here then. You can go with Dorian and Mistress Ching will stay with me."

Come to think of it, maybe it _is_ a good things looks can't kill.

**Thank you for reading, please review. Constructive criticism is always welcome!**

**Fleet**


	2. Nowhere Closer

**Thank you to those of you have read the first chapter, or reviewed. This one is short :)**

**~Nowhere Closer~**

I wait patiently for everyone to clear the cabin before leaving myself. Jack can't seem to collect all of his rings and Dorian flicks one at his face before saluting and walking out. Ching leaves to consult with her crew who are drinking in a tavern thirty minutes away, leaving behind the crew members who had been guarding the Empress.

Jack smoothes the brim of his hat before setting it firmly over his bandana. The lantern flickers as the door closes, a rush of evening air surrounding us.

"We need to talk Elizabeth," he says, hands fishing in his pockets creating a metallic orchestra of keys and rings clashing together.

"I don't think there's much to say right now," I speak quietly.

"You're tired," he comments. "We'll leave it for a few days."

"Ching and I will be over in the morning to go over Dorian's charts. Will you stay on _The Enigma _tonight?"

He shakes his head, brow furrowed. "No, I'll wait 'til we leave to board that ship," he cracks his nose, his eyes lost in some deep thought. Then he straightens and makes for the door. "'Night, Elizabeth."

"Goodnight Jack."

I wait for the quiet click of the latch before walking to the desk in the cabin and sinking into the chair behind it. I rest my head against the smooth wood, sheets of paper blowing onto the floor as I sigh.

I feel nauseous, the slight bumping of the ship against the dock making my vision blurry. I breathe deeply, trying to calm my body.

~*O*~

There is a strange atmosphere aboard _The Enigma _as I walk across her deck to the cabin beneath the quarterdeck. The women in Dorian's crew drop everything they are doing and rush below decks, leaving discarded cloths, mops, and pales of water. I glance at my crew, wondering if they are that intimidating. Behind us coming up the ramp is Jack and his crew, carrying heavy barrels and boxes of all sizes. Ragetti clutches a chicken, trying to keep the bird's wings folded and its feet in his hand.

I gesture for my crew to move off to the side and make room, then walk to the cabin.

I knock on the window and stand back to watch Jack take charge of the ship, pointing at barrels and people. I sigh quietly, remembering when I myself had been part of that crew. So much less responsibility...

Marty and Gibbs lift a heavy barrel and half drag half roll it across the deck and down below. What I wouldn't give to just sit down and talk to one of them, to feel connected to something again.

"Lizzie?" The door opens behind me. Dorian steps aside, allowing me to come in.

Jack follows several moments behind.

The three of us stand awkwardly in the room, looking at various places on the wall while we wait for the fourth party to show up. I wander over to the set of black leather chairs in the center of the room and sit, relaxing as the rolling motion in my stomach subsides.

Jack walks over to the desk and pokes at the various instruments with Dorian watching him across the room.

There is a shout at the door and it swings open for Ching to enter, two of her men standing by.

"You have the compass?" She turns immediately to Jack, who sits down in the chair beside mine.

"I have it," he says, undoing his belt buckle to slide the compass string off. "How exactly is this going to work? If we have my compass, we don't need Dorian's charts."

"I am not certain, Sparrow. Let us first find a heading."

Everyone agrees.

"Who's going to open the compass?" I ask eventually, seeing that nobody goes for it.

"Mistress Ching should open it," Jack suggests.

"I can hardly see the needle," she objects.

"Well someone else can look at it," I volunteer.

"Sometimes that affects the direction in which the needle points," Jack frowns.

"So why don't you do it?" Dorian asks, looking at me.

"I'm not sure it's what I want most," I say honestly. "Why don't you do it?"

"I know it isn't what I want most," he replies.

"Why do you not use your own compass, Sparrow?" Ching says.

"I'm _positive_ it's what I want least of all things."

"This is great," I say.

"Your negativity is doing us no good," Jack comments.

"Your pointing it out isn't either," I scowl.

"I think we need to come back to this later, once we've all had time to think of what we want," Dorian suggests, speaking slowly. Jack continues to stare at me, gritting his teeth. I look back at him.

"Alright," Ching agrees.

I'm out of the cabin before anyone moves.

I rush down the ramp and nearly run down the dock. _The Empress _is tied off to the one next to it and once I'm around the corner of it I vomit into the water, one hand against the ship to support myself. I feel no better. Before anyone sees me, I straighten and hurry on deck, slamming the door of my cabin behind me.

I hope to get this out of my system before we leave.

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	3. The Art of Piracy

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**~Ghost~**

As soon as I'm alone in my cabin I find the bed tucked behind a cheap red curtain and collapse onto the pile of used sheets, pulling them almost blindly around myself. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the pain behind them to go away. The room pulses and even with my eyes closed I can picture it sliding and tilting. I feel like I'm about to roll off the bed with the way everything is moving. I roll the opposite direction and dump myself on the floor, hitting my head.

The sheets are still tangled around me and I pull them up over my head, fading into a troubled sleep.

~*O*~

I'm in the gray curtained room again, the one I had been taken to when I had my first dose of Dorian's drugs. This time though, it is silent.

There is no pain here, my head feels better. My stomach has stopped clenching. The room is not tilting.

I take a moment to breathe then wave my hand through the air. I had forgotten that I don't actually exist in this dream. My hand is not there, the gray swirls of smoke don't part.

That is, until someone steps through the blanket of fog and stops in front of me. I inhale sharply, sucking in a lungful of smoke. Suddenly I can move, brushing the clouds away to reveal the man standing before me. A head of smooth brown hair just visible, deep chocolate eyes... a scar running jagged claws across his left breast... I snap my eyes back up to his face.

He's gone.

~*O*~

I wake up on the floor, not quite sure how I had gotten there. I don't bother to get up, keeping my eyes closed as I breathe in the scent of leather, old sweat on linen, spices... I push the sheets aside, slamming my hand into wood and jolting myself awake.

I stand slowly and sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the sheets up and leaving them in a heap on the mattress. My mind is racing, clinging to my dream, my vision. An overwhelming sense of guilt lays me back down on the bed and I find myself drifting off to sleep again, willing to forget. My hand drifts subconsciously to my neck, as if I would find the chain on which I once kept a large key. The chain is no longer there, as I know, and neither is the key.

~*O*~

"I've reshuffled my priorities," Jack announces, laying his compass flat on the palm of his hand in front of us. "I have tested this several times, just to make sure it points in the same direction and I believe I have a proper heading."

"Very good, Sparrow," Ching says with some cheer.

We are crowded around Dorian's desk, several different maps spread out before us.

"I have also looked over some of my own charts, but I can't pinpoint where the compass is leading us. I think it best if we just follow it for some time, until we can be more certain."

"How can you be sure what it points to at all?" I ask.

"I've convinced myself that I want most to locate the leader of this guard. Whether or not that brings us to the fortress... it will get us to the leader."

"And you're positive?"

"Yes."

"Good," I sigh in relief. That's one less thing to worry about.

"There's just one thing though. I may need to retrieve my ship first," Jack looks at the compass and shakes it violently.

"I thought we had things worked out," I say, eyeing Dorian.

"I've convinced myself this is what I want by convincing myself I'll have my ship to go with it."

"The compass isn't pointing to your ship, is it?"

"Not constantly. My ship is at Mervailles."

"I think it may be a good idea to retrieve his ship before continuing," Dorian speaks. "We can gather my men there, as well as any supplies we may need. I have agreed with Jack that it is not far off the course we will be taking and might actually speed us up and give us a better advantage. Four crews do not fit well between two ships. I wouldn't want to leave anyone behind either."

"To Mervailles then?" I ask Ching.

"If we must."

Before I leave, Ching slips a folded pile of parchment paper into my jacket pocket. "I only read the first page."

~*O*~

The weight of my pocket forces me to walk quickly on my way back to _The Empress_. Curiosity burns as I unlock the cabin door and hang up my coat, sliding a hand into the fabric to pull out the letters.

The first page is addressed to "No one in particular, except the Pirate King," followed by "(deliver to the above upon receiving this)" I skim the rest of the page.

_Word of a fortress has reached my ears... unknown whereabouts... some sort of a guard... my belief that war is the intention... the Pirate King should be warned, along with all Pirate Lords... if the movement should continue, word will be sent to the nearest Lord... all the information I can offer..._

There is no signature. The seal has already been broken, a plain splotch of wax with no seal.

I lay the top letter aside on my desk, lifting the separate bundle. This one is sealed. Above the seal is written- in a much different writing than the other letter: _E.T. The Pirate King_.

E.T... Elizabeth Turner. _Someone who knows my name._

I am surprised that Ching did not see it her duty to read the contents of the letter. I wonder who gave it to her in the first place. Was she told not to read it?

I pick the seal off carefully with the tip of my dagger, afraid to break it in case it can tell me something later. In the light of my cabin I can't easily see it. I unfold the parchment.

The writing is very tidy, with perfect curls on the end of each letter, written in straight lines across the page. A skilled hand, but unfamiliar. The writing is very big though, and although several pages long there is not much there. I skip to the end to find a signature that I cannot read then return to the first page.

_Dear Mrs. Turner,_

_At this point you may or may not have heard of me. I am assuming that you have, as this letter was to reach you through another who I understand has information of me as well. So, let me be clear. Ignore what you might have heard about war and scheming, and read this instead._

_The sea has long been my mother, and my people's mother. For longer, the sea has been woman to any man. Corruption in these men has poisoned our waters, each man out to kill another for his own personal gain._

_Piracy may be looked at as an art. Not one that can easily be eliminated. Do not read this wrong Mrs. Turner, I do not wish to harm you or your pirates. I am not intending to wage war on piracy, or you. _

_It is only what I fear will naturally happen when things play out, as I am certain people of your nature would not so easily step aside from the sea they claim to be their own._

_That is where pirates and those who follow you have been terribly mistaken. The sea was never yours to claim. I am now asking you a favour, Mrs. Turner. Inform your pirates that the sea is no longer theirs and that they must discontinue their ways. I ask that they be relocated, and leave the water open. No Pirate "Lord" shall run any part of anywhere, their ships will not keep others out._

_If my forces are resisted, it will mean bloodshed, although I would hate to see this begin in such a way. Times are changing and the age of pirates is coming to an end. It would be in your best interests to step down and save what is left of your world._

_I have lost many things dear to me, Mrs. Turner. I am now taking the necessary steps to retrieve such things and make sure past events do not repeat themselves. Let this not become war. _

_However, I doubt once you read this that anything other than war shall ensue. So I warn you now that we are well prepared and it would be foolish for you not to consider my wishes and warnings. I have more on my side than you know, most of all knowledge._

_If you need, I am willing to leave piracy as it is on certain parts of the map and let unlawful things carry on within boundaries._

_I'm sure your husband wouldn't appreciate the extra workload if these seas should be littered with the bodies of your followers. I am sure he would be rather disappointed to find you going against my cause._

I blink a few times, rereading several parts. Thoughts elude me.

Then I can't help thinking how contradictory everything is. My head begins to spin once more and I feel frustration at how unbelievable everything I've just read seems. I can't think about it, can't sort out one word from the next. _It's completely nonsense,_ my brain tells me. What cause?

But as always, it's completely serious. I take the letter outside, to see if in better light the words will disappear.

_Your husband wouldn't appreciate the extra workload..._

I heave the remaining contents of my stomach over the ship rail.

Someone knows me.

"Captain?" Tai Huang says from behind.

"Yes?"

"You are alright?"

"I'm fine. The ship is ready?"

"Yes."

"Good, we will be leaving shortly."

"Captain?"

"What?" I ask, somewhat impatiently.

"What is in that letter?"

I hold it to my chest. "Captain's business."

**Thank you for reading, please review!**


	4. Walls

**Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed this story thus far, I really appreciate it.**

**~Walls~**

"Are these the usual side-effects?" I ask, sloshing water around in my glass as Dorian lights another lantern in his cabin. We are alone, Ching having settled into a lower cabin of _The Empress, _Jack being elsewhere.

"Usually it doesn't last quite as long. However, you've had twice the dosage of anyone I've previously tried it on. I'm sorry to tell you I can't really estimate how much longer this will last. Have you been feeling any better?"

"Slightly. I've been passing out and seeing things, though. Like dreams, but different. They're exactly the same as the visions I had when I was unconscious."

"That's normal."

"To have visions like the ones I do?"

"What do you see?"

"People. Everything that I've ever worried about. Things I haven't put in thoughts myself... It's maddening, waking up and trying to sort out what it all means."

"Are they people you know?"

"Always. Usually taunting me about something... or they say nothing and disappear."

"I've never actually spoken to anyone this in-depth about it. I can't say if that in particular is normal."

"I'm starting to wonder if it's just me..." I say, stilling the movement of my glass as water spills onto my hand. I watch the water become a flat, slightly shaking surface.

I set the glass down.

"Have you been eating?"

"Yes, of course."

"Perhaps because you were unconscious for a week at a time, your body is now trying to reorient itself. You wouldn't have had food at the time, maybe it's just starting to realize the effects."

It sounds like a long-shot, even said to someone who at this point is willing to believe anything.

"Maybe," I nod, moving for the door. "I have to go. I'll send someone when we're ready to leave."

Dorian picks up my water pours it on the floor, putting the glass back in a cabinet. "Sleep some once things settle down. Tell me how things are going."

I close the door behind me, then turn and walk straight into a wall. I clutch my nose, staring at the deck. I shake my head quickly. Heat rushes to my face, not in embarrassment, but panic. I'm losing it. I just walked into a wall.

A hand pulls mine from my nose and suddenly Jack is in my face, brows knit in concern. Not a wall then. Just his chest.

"Did I break it?" he asks. His hand hovers uncertainly over the bridge of my nose.

I sigh in relief, pushing his hand away gently. "No."

"What were you doing in there?"

"Talking to Dorian."

"Hm."

"I'm allowed to talk to him, am I not?"

"Why anyone would willingly talk to him is beyond me."

"He's a very helpful person."

Jack raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

"I'd best get back, and you'd best make sure you have the correct heading. I want to leave as soon as possible." Before I change my mind. I feel the letter heavy in my pocket.

~*O*~

Why ships must lurch when a sizeable wave comes along is beyond me as I try to drink from a flask of water. My lips tighten as I poor it on my shirt.

Before I can make another attempt, I'm rudely interrupted by my head. Rather, the hammer in my head trying to pound its way out. If it hasn't broken through at this point, I must have a very hard skull.

I squint but quickly quit when it worsens.

There is a shout outside and I grimace as I make my body move to the door. When the light hits me, it takes several moments for my vision to focus before I can see _The Enigma_ sailing some ways off beside _The Empress, _her decks full with a crowd of people.

_The Empress _is crowded as well as the crew drop their tasks and lean against the railing, searching for the source of the shouting.

I lift the little silver spyglass I had found in the cabin to my eye, already knowing what I will see.

On the quarterdeck, Dorian is shouting at Jack and pointing down into the crowd.

Jack is flailing his arms, making gestures of his own as he yells back.

I fold the spyglass. I search the line of men at the rail of my ship with my eyes until I find Tai Huang, already looking at me. He walks over, annoyance clear on his face.

"They'll have to be separated. Jack and Ching will have to switch," I say leaving my own irritation out of my voice. "I'll need that longboat, there."

~*o*~

"That wasn't my fault," Jack says as he helps row us back.

I keep rowing, my attention focused ahead.

"It might have been me crew's fault, most certainly not mine."

I roll my eyes.

Jack stops rowing.

"What?" I say, stopping as well.

"Are you ignoring me?"

"I just said something to you."

"You said 'what.' That's hardly saying anything."

I place my oars back in the water and begin to row again.

"This boat has lots of oars," Jack says to himself as he does the same.

One of his oars strikes mine, causing me to stop.

"Could you pay attention?" I snap.

I can see him grit his teeth. He starts rowing.

"You know, you didn't used to be like this. Half a year ago even," he says loudly.

This time my oar strikes his.

"Is there something wrong with me wanting to get back to my ship?"

"You know what I mean. You're plain miserable. And snappy. And always in a bad mood. Oversensitive, jealous, angry..."

I pull my oars into the boat and lay them aside.

"What are you doing?" Jack asks.

"Putting these away before I hit you."

"Tell me if anything I just said isn't true."

"Keep rowing, please."

He does.

"Sorry," I say quietly.

He grunts.

~*o*~

Once Jack accepts his room, we bring the ships closer together. I help the men transfer cargo from one ship to the other while Dorian watches, not touching a thing.

Singapore is still in sight and things have already gone bad.

I pass along another chest to the man behind me, trying not to think about what might happen now that things have been switched around.

After we finish moving Jack's things about, we move Ching's in the opposite direction.

Once everything has been accounted for, the crews switch and we pull away from _The Enigma_, back on course.

Once again I pat the letter in my pocket.

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	5. What Isn't Missing

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed my previous chapters :)**

**~What Isn't Missing~**

The curtained room has become even more realistic. I can breathe in the fog, the smoke, can feel it damp in my lungs. It feels like the air after a rain but thicker.

The difference this time is that I am actually here. My hands are in front of me when I want them to be, I can turn my head and look the other way. I take a moment to adjust to this, parting the haze before me. Cautiously, I take a step forward. The curtains disappear.

I'm on an empty street. I look behind me. More street. I've left Nowhere. It is raining, a light drizzle cold on my face. I can feel every drop that runs over my cheeks, as if I am awake.

The street is empty, lined with closed shops and a filthy smog sitting low in the air. I look behind me again. There is no way back. I begin walking, knowing that I will eventually wake up.

The windows in every store are dusty, old dresses and dolls are neglected on display. Alcoves hide shadows. I run my hand across a glass window, peering inside. I can't see a thing. Disappointed, I step away. I catch the reflection of a man and turn around.

He turns as I do, showing me his back. He walks away.

Something pulls me towards him, urging me to follow. Instinct? A dream-controlling pull? I hurry after him.

The back of a long coat, a black hat and worn boot heels are all I see as I call out to the man to stop walking.

Of course he doesn't answer because he is too busy being a frustrating dream _personnage_. They never say anything when I need them to.

"Wait," I say, reaching for his shoulder.

I must have miscalculated the distance between us, as I miss. I run to catch up.

"You could at least wait for me; this is _my _dream after all."

He laughs.

I reach again, this time catching him. I pull him around to face me. As my eyes grow wide in disbelief, they open and I'm awake.

~*O*~

With convulsions so violent I want to jump overboard, I vomit into the water. I'm sure it _must _be for the last time. I stand shaking against the rail, waiting for another wave, feeling there is no possible way I could have anything left to expel. I feel no better. I want to be rid of this poison.

Slowly, I raise a sash to my mouth to wipe it. Before I can, I feel ill again and hurry to lean over the railing.

I feel better and sigh as I straighten. I untie my flask of water from my belt and swish a mouthful around before spitting it out again. I repeat the process then head to my cabin.

I stop when I see Jack with one hand on the quarterdeck railing, watching me. His eyes are dark. He doesn't move, even when I lock eyes with him. He looks angry.

~*O*~

In the shelter of my own rooms, I sit on the bed. Images of a dagger bearing father, of rain and beating hearts, and a heavy metal key seep into my thoughts.

I reach for my neck, again thinking that I will find a chain there with that very key on it.

Of course, it is where I left it. But soon I will have it again, and I can stop worrying about things. Perhaps this new dream will stop even.

Even with these thoughts to comfort me, a sort of panic begins to creep into my chest and I nearly stop breathing. What if I can't find the key? What if, even if I find it, something has happened to the chest? What if this feeling of panic I'm getting is supposed to tell me something?

I rush out to empty the remains of my stomach contents.

"Your Majesty," a man smirks at me as he walks past. I vaguely recognize him from Jack's crew. At his words, I slowly straighten up and set my jaw.

~*o*~

I'm half asleep when a heavy fist knocks on my door. I pretend not to hear it, keeping my eyes shut. It comes again. I get up and unlock it, opening it a crack.

"I need to talk to you about something really important," Jack says.

I let him in, hurrying aside so as to close the door quickly and block the light glaring down on me.

"How are you feeling?" He asks.

"Fine." He gives me a look. "Just a little sea-sick is all."

"You've been sick for a week," he says, clearly arguing my point. "I could see you, when we followed Dorian's ship to Singapore."

"These ships are a little rockier than I'm used to."

"Lizzie, I need you to tell me the truth."

"I'm sick, that's all," I snap. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.

"We may not have been what I call friends, lately, but I need to know if anyone hurt you."

I consider for a second telling him that I had been drugged, but the image of Dorian and Jack shouting at each other earlier this morning changes my mind.

"Don't be silly Jack. I'm just not feeling well. Certainly not well enough to have this conversation with you. I'm going to be fine, I'm feeling better already," I lie. I turn to walk further into the room but he grabs me and turns me slowly to face him again.

"I need you to be completely honest with me, right now," he says.

"I—"

"I need to know if he hurt you."

I blink.

"Who?"

"Dorian."

"I— no , no he didn't. Of course not."

"Lizzie," he lowers his voice, stepping closer to me. "I would never repeat anything you say to me here. I need to know. Did he hurt you?"

"Of course not, he's a good man, really. I don't see why you're so bothered. In fact, you're hurting me more now."

He lets go of my arm.

"And are you... with him?"

"With him?"

"Together?"

"No," my eyes widen. "_No_."

"Have you ever been together?"

"What do you mean?"

"Close to him?"

"We're friends...I think. And if you would give me a second chance, I would like to make things right between us as well. Please just stop questioning me and I'll do the same. Can't we move past all of this?"

"But has there ever been something more...?"

I think hard on this one, recalling a brief kiss before I was knocked out for the first time.

"No," I say carefully. I notice how natural it is to lie to him. His eyes are unblinking, as if he's reading mine. A wall springs up in my mind.

"Lizzie," he warns. For a second, I want to let him in.

"I'm perfectly fine. You can leave now." I reach behind him and open the door, poking him in the chest to encourage him to step back through it.

"You're sure you're alright?" He asks the door half closed.

"I'm positive. Don't worry about it."

"If you need to talk—"

"Good day Jack." I shut the door.

As soon as it thuds closed, I feel anything but fine. It isn't my stomach, or my head. In fact I feel physically better than I have for some time.

But as his questions slowly revolve around my head, I begin to think. I sort back through the time I've spent with Dorian. I think of every moment I can conjure up; try to remember every word he said. Because as much as I'd like to believe he's a good person, whenever I think of him I feel the panic I do when I dream of _him_. My hand once again travels to my throat where once again I find no key.

**Thank you for reading, please review. Feel free to point out mistakes, I appreciate any time you take to leave me a comment.**


	6. Safer

**It's been a while, but here's the next chapter. We left off with a few dreams about Will and Elizabeth shutting the door in Jack's face when he asked her about her relationship with Dorian.**

**~Safer~**

One week away. I just need to last one week and we'll have _The Pearl _back. Then I'll have the key, and everything will be fine.

I'm staring out across the sky, looking ahead of us past the seemingly endless ocean. There is not a cloud in the sky, nothing to break up the flat surface that stretches out in every direction and nothing to keep my attention away from the nagging feeling in my gut.

If I'm not thinking of the key, I'm thinking of what it unlocks. If I'm not thinking of the chest, I'm thinking of the letter at the back of a draw in my cabin, outlining my future downfall. If I'm not puzzling over that, I'm trying to keep Jack's crew off my back, as well as my own.

Although it may have been a comment said somewhat jokingly, "Your Majesty" still rings in my ears causing me to occasionally glare at random places when I think of it. I _am _King, and it's this lot of ungrateful pirates that I'm trying to help.

It had crossed my mind to show Jack the letter, but something tells me I should keep it to myself, for now.

_Why? _I find myself asking, again, as I continue to stare at the sky. _Because of the end_, my mind answers, coming to the same conclusion as always.

_I'm sure your husband wouldn't appreciate the extra workload if these seas should be littered with the bodies of your followers._

No, Jack won't be reading that.

"Captain," The voice slices through my thoughts, in the same mocking tone it had the other day. I turn and look at the man. I don't know his name.

"Some o' the crew an' I were wondrin' who was the cap'n here," he says, smirking briefly before regaining his serious face. Oalan, another of _The Black Pearl_'s crew shuffles over to join in the conversation.

"Ya, who's the captain?" He chimes in. He smirks as well.

"Or should we ask, who's the—"

"Sorry to interrupt you gentlemen, but Mrs. Turner and I have some important matters to discuss," Jack cuts in, coming up behind them.

They part ways slightly and I pass them, following Jack to the other side of the deck.

"Guess we have our answer," I hear Oalan snicker quietly.

"Na, I think it's the other one, what's 'is face."

"We're about a week away from Mervailles," Jack says, hand tapping the compass at his side absentmindedly as he comes to rest at the ship's rail. Oalan and his friend look on with goofy smiles on their face and I glare at them.

"Lizabeth," Jack says sharply.

"I'm aware of that," I say.

He makes a clicking noise with his tongue, looking out at the water.

"Say what you're going to say," I sigh.

"I think it's best if you come back with me, to _The Pearl_."

I say nothing, watching him watch the water. He glances over when I say nothing.

I enjoy watching as he becomes uncomfortable.

"Why?" I ask.

"Safety reasons," he says, avoiding my eyes.

I let the silence creep in.

"Why?" I repeat.

"I think that you would be safer on my ship, with people you know. And me."

"Safe?" I ask, bewildered. "You think any of the things I've been doing the last few years of my life have been _safe_?"

"Everything has its dangers, you're quite right. But, under the circumstances... you should want to be safe... -er."

"And what circumstances are you referring to?" I can hear the annoyance in my voice, a hint of anger. "You know what Jack, I can't do that. Don't even answer the question. I can't live another day with people telling me things and asking me things in riddles," I step back, ready to walk away before he can confuse me more.

"Wait, Lizzie," he steps forward. "Things are difficult for you, I can see that. You're not ready to accept anything that's been going on, or understand it. But I think with what you've just been through and what you're going through, you're best off without so much responsibility on your hands. I'm willing to have you on board and you won't have to work a day. Let me help you," he cracks a grin.

"_Why?_ Why do you think I want that? There is nothing that I'm going through that I need you to help me with. I'm twenty three years old; I can take care of myself."

"Shh, Lizzie. Not so loud."

"Just tell me. Tell me why I need help." He opens his mouth. "_No_, I don't need your help!" I stop him. "I don't need anyone's help. I'm perfectly fine on my own." I turn again to walk away from him.

"_Lizzie."_

I look at him.

"These past months have been really difficult for you. I'm only suggesting that you come back with me, and we can help you get over everything, and through it."

I raise an eyebrow. "I'm already over it."

"What you're going through now... I think you need someone to talk to, maybe..." he seems awkward.

I step closer to him and lower my voice. "When I was three my dog was trampled by a horse. I tried to bury it myself. When I was six I fell out of a tree and couldn't leave my bed for weeks, but I recovered completely with no one but myself to keep me company. My mother died when I was seven and no amount of help ever changed that. I've been kidnapped by pirates and traded by pirates and nearly killed by pirates. I lost my father a year ago, as well as James."

"Lizzie, why don't we take this—"

"You want to help me now? I lost my husband, Jack. There was no one to help me then. I lost any sort of life ever possible for me in a real society. I'm an outlaw. I don't need _safety,_ nothing worse could ever happen to me than what already has. But I'm perfectly fine."

"I didn't mean to provoke you," Jack says cautiously after an awkward moment of silence. "And I know... that you've been through worse times than...now. I just think with so much stress on your shoulders... it mustn't be the best thing for... you... or anyone else."

Why he pushes things, I don't pretend to understand.

"What is the matter with you?" I ask loudly.

"Fine," he raises his hands defensively. "I won't help. But when that thing comes around I think you'll be wishing you had let me."

My lips part as I inhale slowly. My heart starts beating erratically in my chest. I glance around.

"So you do think I'm pregnant," I say.

Jack bites his lip. "Something along those lines, yes." He smiles nervously.

I look back at Oalan and no-name in sudden fear. They wave, knowing smiles on their faces.

"Shoot me now."

**Thank you for reading, please review. Constructive criticism welcome from anyone :)**


	7. Complications

**~Complications~**

"What?" I snap at Oalan and his mate, suddenly furious. They shuffle away.

I turn back to Jack. "Did you tell anyone you were thinking this?"

"I— no, of course not," he says quickly.

"Then why are they looking at me like that?"

"I suppose it isn't true then," he says brightly, a hopeful smile punctuating his face.

"Of course it isn't true! How could you even think it was?"

"Well... just what I've heard."

I pause. "You mean you didn't come up with this yourself?"

He pulls at the beads on his beard and shrugs. "I did. I may have mentioned my thoughts to Gibbs."

"But only he knows, right?" I whisper.

Jack meets my eyes suddenly. "Knows what?"

"What you just told me; that I'm pregnant."

"So it is true?" his eyes widen and flash down to my belly.

I cross my arms. "_No_. Have you told anyone apart from Gibbs what you were thinking?"

"You know Gibbs has a loose tongue. I'm sure if he let something slip that it was completely unintentional."

"Perfect."

I watch as Pintel and Ragetti shuffle across the deck with buckets of water and mops, sloshing the murky substance over the edges. I bite the inside of my cheek, considering my next question. "Whose did you think it was?"

"No one's," he answers quickly, almost shouts.

"Good."

~*o*~

I shut myself in the dark space of my cabin and light the lantern hanging from a support beam. With determinedly steady fingers I remove it from its place and carry it to the full-length mirror bolted in the corner of the room. A crack runs through the reflective surface, a spider of a thousand legs spinning its web across the shards. I find my face above the mess.

It's different than I remember. I smooth a hand over the grime on one cheek, scraping the dirt off with broken nails. So different from the girl in the mirror at Mervailles. _Weaker, _somehow_._

My hand trembles as I set the lantern on the floor. What has happened to me?

I step closer to the mirror so that my breath fogs up the glass and place hands on either side of the frame.

My eyes are dull, depthless shades of brown. Tired.

_Give up_, they say.

I glare at my reflection, hating what I see. With my anger the face changes, becomes _something. _The eyes- for a moment- shine.

I lean further into the mirror so that my nose is resting against it. I stare deeper into my eyes and am frustrated that I can only see the reflection of my reflection within them. Annoyed, I push away and step behind the light.

I straighten my shoulders upon seeing the sag to my posture and watch the mirror.

I can't let people think poorly of me anymore.

Absently, I touch the flatness of my belly. Turning sideways I look at it in my reflection.

Nothing.

~*o*~

I run a finger over the tiny dot on the map, a single penned point of ink that has long ago faded into the canvas. You wouldn't see it if not for the tiny letter 'E' beneath it, the remnants of a name once inscribed in tiny cursive. I wonder what the other letters were; what people may have called the island before I found it. I wonder at how long ago she was found, and how long she will keep my secret. I can feel the key in my hands, a ghost.

I run my fingers back to sea, knowing exactly where Mervailles would be had she been marked down when the map was painted. I've penned it in myself.

The distance between the two islands doesn't look to be much, but small numbers on paper could mean weeks. I open the drawers of the antique desk one by one, searching for a compass. I find one broken in the bottom drawer, the hinged legs split apart. Beneath it is a pile of papers, yellow and salt stained.

I bite my lip, looking back to map. I'll find another compass later.

~*o*~

Dinner is salmagundi, something that would be a delicacy if the turtle hadn't been slaughtered a day ago. The dish is overcooked.

At least it's clean.

I sit in silence at the head of the table, eating despite the scrutinizing eyes of my company. I give nothing; no uncomfortable fidgeting, no glance to say I know they are looking. Someone clears their throat.

I push back my chair and stand, the first to finish. Walking to the pilfered basket sitting in the corner of the room, I dump my plate on the pile to be scraped off later. Jack looks up as I leave but says nothing.

The sun has already set, leaving a smudge of fire across the sky. I walk to the railing and lean over, looking into the shimmering reflection of my ship. Waves distort it, make it a monster. She screams, in my head.

Seeing the water, I lick my lips.

Suddenly thirsty, I head back to the galley.

~*o*~

"I don't understand how the water's gone foul," Jack repeats himself. "We checked it only a week ago, when we left."

"Your fault," Tai Huang jabs a finger in my face. "You buy the water from that man and look, it's bad already."

"Hold up, she had nothing to do with the water," Jack raises his voice.

"Dorian was in charge of the water," Gibbs speaks up. Tai Huang turns his pistol on him. "It looked fine to me when we left," he adds nonetheless.

"Perhaps your eyes are growing old," Tai Huang hisses.

"You didn't say anything about it yourself," I point out.

"It's not my duty," he turns back to me.

"Everything is everyone's duty here; no one is to blame for this unless we all are. I say we turn around and head back to the island we just passed, where we can resupply. We're low on food stores as well," Oalan suggests. Where did he come from?

I bite my lip, considering the options. Jack glances at the man, raising his eyebrows. Oalan meets his gaze, the light of several lanterns glinting off his face.

"Sounds like a sound plan," I reason. Several "ayes" can be heard. "Mervailles is at least a week away, and we hardly have rum to make up for the water."

"We can make it back by evening tomorrow," Gibbs nods.

"What of Dorian?" Jack asks, turning to me.

"We'll tell him we're going back. He can continue to Mervailles and gather the people he wants. We'll only be a day behind," I say, looking over my shoulder to the single lantern alight on the deck of _The Enigma._ The ship ghosts across the water as all eyes turn to her.

A far off soprano reaches our ears as we fall silent.

~*o*~

I tuck one edge of the map into itself and roll it up, tying it with ribbon.

Not today.

Soon though, I'll go back there.

I close my eyes and picture the key, willing it to appear in my hand, wishing that I would wake up back in Port Royal.

It doesn't and I don't.

* * *

**I know, not overly eventful. Things are about to pick up!**

**Thank you for reading, please review :) Even a word or two makes me happy.**


	8. Tar and Rum

**Hello! Thank you for reading this far, and thank you to those of you who have reviewed :)**

**Recap: Last chapter dinner was awkward, and Elizabeth discovers Gibbs and Jack may have started the rumor of her pregnancy. We learn that the water has gone foul and the plan is to turn around and make for an island they had passed the day before.**

I sleep fitfully, dreams of strange places and strange people constantly waking me. That and the pacing above my head, on the quarterdeck. I wake to the rolling motion of _The Empress_ and the rolling of my stomach. Hardly awake, I find the chamber pot under my bed and vomit, the taste of turtle in my mouth.

There is a knocking at my door and I groan, crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets over my head.

The door opens. I'm sure I locked it.

I peek out from my cover of blankets. Jack enters the room, searching. I cover my head again, become invisible.

"Elizabeth?" he whispers. He steps quietly into the curtained area of my bed. The boards creak.

"What?" I whisper back after a while. He can't hear me. "What?" I pull the covers down. He looks startled, standing at the end of the bed.

"I just came to check in. How are you feeling?"

I stare. "I'm..."

"Several of the crew are ill."

"With what?" I ask, nervous. Something caught on board would spread like wildfire.

"We found three of the goats dead this morning, crawling with worms and maggots."

"Worms?" I throw the covers back and sit up, pulling my boots onto my tired feet. "Where'd they come from?"

"The goats themselves, I think. Not the ship, from what we've examined."

"We bought sick animals?" I ask, disbelieving. Someone would have noticed.

"That's what it would seem like. One wouldn't know at a glance."

"I want to see them, to be sure."

~*o*~

There is a man sleeping in a hammock when we come down the stairs, undisturbed by the quick thumps of our feet on the wood slats. This is the overflow of the crew, camped out on the livestock deck. It reeks of manure and piss, somewhat masking a sickly sweet smell.

The three dead goats have been shoved into the corner. No one wants to pick them up and throw them overboard. Even the other animals avoid them, huddled in the corner furthest away.

I inspect the nearest one. The eyes are glassy, milky white. A white worm crawls out of the nose, slithering into the animal's fur at its throat.

"Ugh," I pull back, bumping into Jack. Maggots are sticking out of the beast's body like leeches, wet sucking noises just audible over the groaning of the ship.

I turn to the sleeping man. His eyes are already open before I speak to him. "You, how many of the crew have been ill this morning, on this deck?"

He stares at us as if he doesn't understand the question. "You shouldn't be down here," I say firmly.

"How many are sick?" Jack repeats.

A string of slime slides from the corner of one of the staring eyes, tossing its head as it feels for flesh. It settles onto the man's cheek, growing fat as it pulls its tail into itself. The eye shifts slightly to allow the worm to slither out from behind it. I gag and Jack pulls me to the stairs.

~*o*~

"How does this happen? This doesn't happen!" I run my hands through my hair as Jack takes a seat at my desk chair.

"We'll sort it out," he says calmly.

"How?"

"We'll reach shore soon enough and we can clear out. Gibbs will check everyone then."

"We're a week away still. Anyone could have those worms! I could, you could."

"They were only on the livestock deck, the sick crew. You were in here and I slept under the stairs," he says, still calm. I wish I could be as calm.

"Why did you sleep there?"

"Best hammock I could find," he grins. "Besides, I had to get up for night watch." I hadn't noticed a hammock under the quarterdeck stairs. I realize with embarrassment how little I really know about this ship.

"So that was you walking around all night," I mumble. I'm sure there was another reason for his random location.

"Did I wake you?"

"I was already awake."

"Hm." He looks towards the door of the cabin, tapping his fingers on my table. "Do you think we could tap into a barrel of rum? The bottles are empty and I'm going dry."

I roll me eyes, "Sure."

~*o*~

Somehow, I'm more upset than Jack to find the barrels full of a thick black sludge.

Jack runs a finger through the substance, bringing it to his nose. "Tar and rum."

"I'm going to rip that merchant's throat out when we get back," I grumble.

"If we make it back luv," Jack says quietly.

I look up at him. He meets my gaze.

"We will."

He grins slightly, a subtle lifting of one corner of his lips.

He looks back at the barrel in disappointment. "No drink then?"

"Not even water."

~*o*~

I slide open the top drawer of my desk. The red seal from the letter is still there. I run a thumb over the engraved side, unable to see in the dim light exactly what is on the surface.

I move to a window and rest the back of my head against the glass pane as I hold the seal up to the light.

A horse rears up on its back legs, a long leg and fierce hoof striking at a cowering tiger. L.A. is marked under the image.

The light dims and I turn to look at what is blocking my light. First I see trees, gorgeous palms with lush green fronds, bending every which way. Next I see the white beach before them, long and welcoming. _Land_.

"We'll split into groups of three- Gibbs you're with us. Mark your trail gents," Jack instructs then allows for the crews to move, grouping up before heading eagerly into the jungle. "If you can find a stream move up it, find food. Check that it's clean."

"What about the goats?" I ask.

"Already disposed of," someone says. I turn to find Oalan approaching from the ship.

"Thank you," I say curtly. Oalan heads back to the ship

"Let's go," Jack says, prodding me in the direction of the trees.

I turn to look back at _The Empress_ before heading into the jungle. A glare of white light flashes briefly in my eye as the sun catches off something metal. Then the sun breaks through the tangle of sails on its path downward, lighting her up. Sunset.

"We should hurry before dark," I comment distractedly.

"Let's find food," Jack says, tugging me into the thick mist of mosquitoes and fog.


	9. Medicine

"Don't you think it's odd...?" Gibbs huffs from behind as we drag our feet through the thick mud of the jungle, "that there is already a path cut through here?"

"I'd imagine many ships have come through for water and such. Oh look, fruit!" Jack exclaims, running over to the peach tree blocking our path.

He pulls a ripe fruit from the tree and bites into it, wiping the juice off of his face with a dirty sleeve.

I pull the burlap sack from my shoulder and open it, following Jack to the tree. "Good thing we didn't get far," I say. "That would have been a haul back."

We quickly fill the bag half full and Jack takes it from me, tying a cord around the opening and slinging it over his shoulder. "Let's just go a bit further, I can carry this."

Gibbs grunts something but we move off along the path.

I can feel the dampness in my shirt and I want to take my coat off. The mosquitoes buzz constantly in my ears, reminding me not to. The humidity soaks us all and plasters clothing to our skin.

A few minutes from the peach tree finds us at a pond of sorts, a stream leading into it from a hill.

We stare at it for a few moments. "How is that possible?" Jack wonders, walking up the hill.

"Where does it come from?" I call up.

"Can't tell. Just looks like another pond up ahead, stream between the two."

"Wouldn't the lower one overflow?" I ask.

"Doesn't look like it," Jack says, turning back to us. "It must drain out somewhere. All I know is that I'm thirsty."

Gibbs takes his flask from his belt and the two kneel beside the water, submerging the containers until they are full. I step forward and hear the cracking of glass beneath my boots. I look. Crouching, I remove the two pieces from the sodden Earth.

I fit them together into a sort of vial, one end rounded and stained white. I sniff at the opening. It smells of dirt, but dirt only. I remove one of the remaining vials from Mervailles from my pocket. The same small stamp at the base catches my eye_, _a tiny horse head.

"Don't drink that," I warn.

"Why not?" Gibbs asks, wiping water from his beard. Jack coughs up a mouthful.

"Shoot," I say.

"What?" Jack asks almost angrily.

I search the ground and find another vial. Another. I collect four and inspect them, noticing the tiny stamp on each.

"How much did you drink?" I ask, looking back to my companions. Jack is slumped over, face in the water. Gibbs is draped over him, face to the canopy of trees above.

I hurriedly pull Gibbs off and flip Jack over, dragging them both away from the water. I sit for a moment, staring at the two. I put two fingers to Gibbs' throat, checking for a pulse. Slow and steady. Too slow.

I chew on my lip, debating what to do. Leave them here while I find the rest of the crew?

As I kneel between them, their breathing deepens as if they are asleep. I suppose they are asleep.

I can only wonder at what they are dreaming of, if they are dreaming at all.

I notice how silent the jungle is, without the sound of people talking. A single bird calls- a parrot-like screech above my head.

Cotton's parrot stares down at me when I raise my face to him. He's sitting in a twisted plant that winds just above my head. He leans into my face and screeches again, flapping his wings against his sides. Then he falls silent.

I hear voices to my left, quiet chatter muffled by the fog. I stand and move towards the voices, hoping to find men strong enough to lift the two and bring them back to the ship.

I trip over a vine and catch myself on the trunk of a palm tree, slicing my palm as I stumble onto another path. I see the men halt out of the corner of my eye and straighten to tell them what happened.

I'm face to face with a half naked woman, lips stained black and one eye sewn shut with yellow thread. Ten spears are aimed at various points of my body.

"Oh."

We crash back the way I came and two of the women lift Gibbs by his arms and legs. Somehow- I'm not sure how- a third woman hoists Jack over her shoulder and carries him off into the jungle. A spear prods me in the back and I follow the woman with the black lips. The leader, I gather.

I cross my fingers that we'll come across my crew, enough of them to get us out of this. I know we won't, they could have resupplied the water closer to shore. That, and I'm not such a lucky person. I should have known that when I went crashing through the jungle towards the voices.

~*o*~

It's a small clearing, one that's been used before. The fire pit in the middle is still hot when we come upon it; a woman waves her hand over it and snaps it back to her chest. I wonder how anyone could light a fire in such a damp place.

Palm fronds have been laid out in a circle around the pit, making for soft seating. Almost as one, everyone sits.

The large woman lays Jack down between a man with a poorly shaved head and Gibbs, removing the pistol from his belt. The leader indicates for me to sit beside her and I do so without hesitation.

The spear disappears from between my shoulder blades and a fire is lit.

The woman grabs my wrist and presses her fingers into my skin. I look up, returning her stare. Her black painted nails are sharp but I don't look as they draw blood.

"Normal heart," she says. Her voice is quite different than anything I've heard, deep but with a soft enunciation of words. "Drink not."

She takes my face between her palms and leans in closer, her good eye angled towards my face. "What here?" she asks.

I say nothing.

"What here for?" she snaps.

"Food and water," I answer quickly.

She smiles. Her teeth are beautifully white.

"You want water."

I nod. "None left."

"Hm," she continues smiling. "You steal water." She removes her hands and I unclench my jaw.

"Only what we need, it really isn't stealing."

She slaps me, brick hand and sharp nails carving their way across my face. Then she takes my cheeks again and turns me back to look into her eyes. The yellow thread through her eyelid becomes my focal point.

"I have life thousand year," she whispers. "Thousand you, come want drink water."

I swallow.

"Thousand year with water," she says, shaking me between her hands. "You deserve not a thousand years. You deserve not three."

I slide my eyes sideways to look at Jack and Gibbs lying on the ground behind the woman, disbelieving.

"You poison water," the woman hisses, and pushes me away, holding up one of the vials.

I shake my head.

"Water poison you," she nods.

"I didn't drink it," I repeat.

Then she cries, tearless sobs that shake her entire body. I simply watch.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please review.


	10. Liars

**~Liars~**

I must have fallen asleep watching the fire.

I'm hauled to my feet and dragged several steps before I fully open my eyes. We're moving, this time Gibbs and Jack are behind and being carried by four different women. The strong one is ahead of me this time, tugging me forward into the dense foliage.

Mosquitoes still hit me in the face but I can no longer swat them away, my hands tied in front of me. A sort of leash has been attached to my binds, pulling and rubbing my wrists raw as we stumble over plant matter.

At one point Jack is beside me and I see him open his eyes slightly, groaning as he awakens. Everyone comes to a stop and I fall on my bottom when the woman stops pulling me. She snaps something at me and throws the rope at my face. I remain seated while the women fawn over Jack, setting him right on his feet.

"You walk," I hear the leader say.

I hear Jack groan again and I relive the moment when I first woke up from a dose of the drugs. Surely there couldn't have been much poured into the water. Nonetheless, I can't imagine him walking far.

Surprisingly, he does. After throwing up twice within an hour on the feet of the woman supporting him, Jack is stumbling along without help.

He doesn't ask questions but glances at me, raising an eyebrow. I shake my head and shrug, warning him not to say a thing. Of course he already knows.

"Move," the woman dragging me snaps and pulls the rope taught, sending me careening into her back. She seems not to notice or be bothered by it but I'm winded. I gasp as I inhale, sucking in several insects. I choke and the woman jerks the rope forward. This time I do fall, landing on my hands. The rope is yanked again and I fall to my cheek. The woman stops and mutters something to someone. I feel her large hands at my ribcage and she lifts me up, throwing me over one shoulder.

I still fight to catch my breath, finding it difficult in the way I'm bent forward. The ground passing under my eyes is dizzying. I shut them. This would be humiliating if I wasn't so focussed on the pain.

~*o*~

I cry out as my shoulder slams into the ground, a crack of pain reverberating through my body. My eyes open, eyelashes brushing familiar boots as I come to. I roll onto my back and look up at Jack, who bends down to lend me his hand.

I grasp his palm with tired fingers and he pulls me up to stand in front of him, catching my elbow as I sway.

"Why are you still standing?" I ask quietly.

"We're out of rum, remember? I'm completely sober."

"That's not what I me—" I'm interrupted as hands grasp my arms from behind and pull me around to face the woman with the stitched eye.

"Vida, vitae, la vie, lewe, life." She spits the words in my face, her eye catching the light reflected off the mist. "Steal life, you."

I remain frozen, afraid of this woman and the madness in her tone.

She jabs a finger at me, poking the base of my throat sharply. Then she brushes me aside and moves on to Jack.

"You, you drink?"

"Lots, all the time," he says with false cheer. Hopeful cheer. "Rum."

"No," she says, glaring up at him.

"No?" Jack questions, smiling fading. He looks past her, to me.

I shake my head quickly, warning him.

"Drink water. Have you?"

I shake my head again.

"Mmmm... What water?" Jack asks hesitantly, looking at me in confusion.

"You have water from the Fountain, yes. I see water in you."

He looks no different.

"What Fountain?" Jack asks.

"Fountain where is life. Water is young."

I see things click into place in Jack's head, through the shapes his eyebrows form and the curve of his lips.

"The Fountain of Youth," he says quietly, to himself almost. He looks up at me quickly. I look back at him calmly, waiting for his next reaction. We're already in trouble. "You said we'd never find it."

"I wish we hadn't," I say.

"And we'd given up," he muses. A small smile appears on his face. I want to slap it off him.

The woman turns away from him and calls orders in another tongue. I realize our surroundings then, enormous trees with doors carved into their trunks, lush leaves blowing in a gentle breeze far above us. I wouldn't have noticed the doors if they hadn't opened to allow people out, being flat slabs cut out of the tree bark. The trees themselves are as wide as ten people holding hands in a circle. I'm not even sure if they're trees.

Thirty feet away, a slightly raised platform of wood carries an enormous chair, a man seated in the middle. He stands, white but dirtied cloth falling over his dark frame as he steps forward to the edge of the platform.

"Come, be closer to me," he calls out, gesturing at the ground in front of him.

We walk towards him and I look around. "Where is Gibbs?" I whisper to Jack.

"I've no idea," he replies. "They carried him off when we got here."

We fall silent, coming to a stop at the base of the platform.

"I am Chief of this island," the man says, in a softer voice than before. "Welcome to our home."

The woman with the stitched eye steps onto the platform.

"I understand that you two have come from a ship to drink from the Fountain. Is this true?" He asks, large brown eyes boring into mine, then flicking to Jack.

Neither of us answers.

"Is this true?" The man barks, stepping off the platform. He's taller than I am, taller than Jack as well. An ugly scar runs across his throat and I notice it as his veins bulge.

"No," Jack replies firmly.

"You cannot trick me, sailor. I have seen many years of this place and I know an immortal when I see one. You lie."

"I swear it was not my intention when coming here. We meant only to gather—"

"Nonsense," the man snaps.

I shift my eyes to the left, noticing that we are more in forest now. Suddenly surprised, I look up at the tree tops. Indeed, this is a forest.

One thought occurs to me as I look back to the dry ground and inhale a breath of woody air: It would be_ much _easier to run through this than jungle.

"I assure you, we mean you no harm. We haven't stolen anything," Jack continues to talk, trying to placate the Chief.

It's how he speaks to _me_ when I'm angry, when he's lying. I know it won't work.

"You have stolen immortality, you are undeserving!"

"That's debatable."

"I would kill you now if I could," the Chief hisses in Jack's face.

"But you can't," Jack smirks. The chief steps back onto the platform.

"Kill her!" he calls, long finger pointing down at me.

No one moves. I glance to Jack and he is looking at me, eyes wide in regret and surprise.

I'm running before the command can be repeated in the native tongue.

A feel a prick in my arm, a sharp mosquito bite of metal, then I'm into the trees.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I would really love to hear your thoughts, so please review. Also, feel free to point out typos. _Constructive_ criticism is always welcome.**


	11. Kill Me Now

**A/N: Thank you for favouriting, adding this to your alerts, reviewing and simply reading up to this point.**

**Last chapter: It was revealed where the natives live and Elizabeth decided not to stick around and be killed for Jack stealing water from the fountain.**

***My spelling is Canadian***

* * *

The second I hit dense trees I swerve to the right, heading deeper into the island. Twigs snap underfoot and branches claw at my head, clutching at my hair and leaving bark splinters in the scratches across my face.

For the first time in a long time, I think only of myself.

The forest floor is soft, damp from the rain. The humidity here is lesser than it was through the jungle but still choking, smothering.

I stop beside a large tree, hiding myself from the direction I came. I hear nothing. Taking the moment, I untie my boots and tug them off my feet. With laces tied together, I sling them over an arm. Barefoot, I can run faster.

My heart slows, allowing me to listen to the forest.

Birds chatter. A stream trickles to the left. I feel dizzy, exhilarated.

Perhaps just dizzy.

I twist my arm to find the point where I felt the prick, expecting to find some sort of dart. Instead, there is only a metal tip embedded in my flesh and a slow trickle of blood running from my bicep. I squeeze the skin around it, hoping to dislodge it. More blood. No luck.

A snap of branches behind me.

I push off from the tree and keep running, deeper into the tangled mess of sharp wood and thistles. I don't feel the pain of them digging into my arms and tearing at my legs, but they slow me down.

I cast a glance over my shoulder, only slightly relieved to see no one following. I slow to a jog but continue deeper into the woods.

I wasn't made to run this far. I can feel the heaviness of my limbs as I slow my pace, the undeniable strain of my lungs as I gasp for breath, the aching in my knees from the impact of heel on dirt.

After a few minutes of practiced breathing and maintaining a steady pace, the forest ahead turns to jungle. I come to a stop at the edge of the transition, a wide strip of grass between the two. I lean forward and peer both ways, wondering at the oddity of it.

I hear the snap of twigs again and before I can fully turn my neck to look a body slams into me at full force, knocking me to the ground. I shriek out of surprise as my shoulder hits the ground, the same one I had been dropped on earlier.

My assailer groans as his crushing weight falls onto me, pinning me to the ground.

I choke, gasping for air as his shoulder digs into my throat.

"Elizabeth?" Jack questions. "Sorry." He quickly rolls off of me, allowing me to turn onto my side and regain my breath.

We don't move for several minutes and I keep my back to him, closing my eyes.

"Where are they?" I ask eventually.

"They gave up," Jack answers. "Turned around and went back, I'm assuming."

I roll onto my back, elbowing Jack in the chest. He says nothing and we stare up at the thin canopy of trees, breathing. Just breathing.

"Now what?" I ask, knowing we can't just lie here.

He doesn't reply.

I turn my face to the side, to see if he's asleep. He blinks at the sky.

"Jack?"

"Hush luv, I'm thinking."

He closes his eyes and I turn my face back to the treetops, thinking as well.

_Sleep_, I want. I close my eyes. _A real mattress. Real clothing. Something soft; a nightgown. Water. Mostly sleep._

I can picture my old room, white sheets waiting. A window looking out to the ships in harbour is cracked open to let in a breeze. Cold wind.

Even the tiny bed I had fallen asleep in- once- in a blacksmith's shop. Forbidden, but welcoming.

My hammock on _The Pearl_, rocking me to sleep. More forbidden, somehow.

I long for the red sheets of my bed, in my cabin. I want my ship, wherever she is.

I can feel the rocking now, lying on my bed of dirt. Thinking. I slip into a trance, seeing the shape of twisting gray curtains in the distance and reaching for them. I'll be sick later, but for now...

"Let's find somewhere safe to rest, and we can come up with a plan later," Jack says, startling me. The heat of his arm against mine disappears as he sits up, lurching to his feet.

"Why can't we just rest here?" I ask. I can hardly keep my eyelids open.

"Do you want to live?"

He reaches down and grabs my arm, pulling me to stand.

"I'd rather sleep," I grumble, teetering a little.

Jack releases me and looks at his hand. He wipes it on his shirt. A thin streak of red is left behind.

"Sorry," I say.

"Are you bleeding?" he asks.

"I got hit by something; I can't get it out of my arm."

"Let's see." Jack squints at the dart tip. "Hm."

"I think I'll be fine."

"You're still standing," he shrugs.

"Just tired."

"We should keep moving then, find somewhere safe if you or I pass out again."

He walks away, crossing the strip of grass to the jungle side. I pause in the middle of the stretch to put on my boots, using it as an excuse to sit down again.

Jack stops and waits, watching me struggle to get them on the right feet.

"They had better not come after you tonight," he states, chuckling despite our situation.

"They would be coming for you too," I remind him, less jokingly.

"Difference now being that only one of us can die," he says, grinning.

"You believe that was the Fountain?" I ask him seriously, shielding my eyes from the sun to look up at him. I feel it must be something else, that the drug simply had a different effect on him. I know it was in the water, the vials told me enough. But why is he still conscious? Was it too diluted?

"I've never felt better, I believe that. There's something odd about this place, don't you think? Jungle to forest? Water that doesn't flow anywhere? The biggest trees anyone's ever seen?"

"That was never part of the legend," I argue.

"I thought you'd learned that most legends don't live up to their names," he smirks.

"I did learn that. I just didn't think I'd be continuously disappointed by them."

"There isn't much disappointing about a Fountain of Youth," Jack says, walking back to lend me a hand. He crouches to tie my shoe laces, slapping my hands out of the way and bending my knee to my chest. "That is what we're talking about? The water?" He unties my knot and starts again.

"It might not work. How do you know?" I ask quietly, ignoring his question.

"I just know."

"That's what will get you killed," I point out. "Overconfidence leads to foolishness. If it isn't the Fountain of Youth, and I'm inclined to believe it isn't, then you'll find your immortality to be short lived."

"Concerned?" he asks, looking up from his work. He waits for my answer, breath brushing my knee.

"Hardly," I answer.

"Then we'll focus on keeping _you_ alive darling," he says quietly, sarcasm subtle.

"Kill me now and you won't have to worry about it."

"I'm not worried about it."

He finishes the one shoe and I draw up my other leg. He reaches for the laces.

"You are worried about it," I say matter-of-factly. "Or you wouldn't have come back for me at all, before."

He quirks and eyebrow but keeps tying. Finally he pulls me to my feet.

"Then I'll kill you when you're sleeping," he whispers in my ear, and turns for the jungle.

* * *

**I know that was fairly fast-paced, I didn't want to bore with too much detail of running around.**

**Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, I most often return the favour.**


	12. A Shot into the Dark

As we walk, Jack hacking a path through the jungle greenery and me being as useless as ever, I think of how we got here.

Not the two of us, traipsing through this island with no goal in sight. I know we came through the forest and past a stream, and past another stream. Endless trees.

I think of _The Empress_, floating off shore, hopefully. I haven't let myself contemplate the possibility that this struggle through a crazy wilderness was intentional, planned. I haven't lingered long on the fact that someone wanted us to sail back here, to turn around.

But now, with nothing to do but crawl over fallen trees and detangle myself from choking vines, thought is inevitable.

"Dorian did this," I say, calling to Jack. "I'm sure he did." Sweat runs down my back but I cling to my coat.

"Although I would happily blame our misfortune on him," Jack answers, "I'm not sure how you came to that conclusion."

"He knows this place. He's been here."

"What else has he told you that you have not told me?"

"He didn't have to tell me. At the... Fountain, there were vials buried in the ground. The same ones he has for his drugs. He poisoned the water; it's why you passed out."

"A few drops of poison won't have an effect on that much water. Or me, for that matter."

"A drop put me out for a week and a half. You were unconscious for an hour, it's reasonable considering the volume of water."

Jack stops attacking the swatch of vines in front of him and turns to face me. I blink away the creeping grey at the edge of my vision.

"It may have been the effects of the water," he reasons. I _know _Dorian's been here. The little nub buried in my arm proves it. I wish I could just pick it out.

"What did you see?" I ask

"Water..."

"When you were unconscious, I mean."

He pauses, looking at the ground. "Nothing."

"Tell me?" I say softly.

"A white space."

"That's it?"

He lifts his eyebrows. "Lots and lots of white rock."

"Oh," I say, somewhat disappointed. My dreams were important to me, significant puzzle pieces to the maze that is my subconscious. Thinking of the dreams my eyelids get heavier. I can feel the dart tip buried in my arm, but I press forward, determined to find a rest stop before attempting to remove it.

Jack shudders and turns back to the wall of vines ahead of us.

"Are you alright?" I ask.

"Just remembering things," he says and I hardly hear him.

"Remembering what?" I ask nervously.

"White rock, and crabs."

And with that, I have no idea what he's remembering.

~*o*~

As I thought it would, the sun has set. I wish I could see the horizon, to catch that last streak of pink before the sky turned blue. Instead, Jack and I struggle through the jungle half blind, feeling our way to a safe rest place.

"You'll have to duck here," Jack says, stopping in front of me. His shadow disappears.

"Where'd you go?" I ask loudly.

"Down here, crawl under the rock," he says, his voice muffled.

I feel my way forward, whacking my hand against stone. Soft plant drapes over it and I push my arm through them, checking where I can get under. I lower myself to my hands and knees, wincing as sharp sticks jab into my palms.

I hear Jack moving in front of me and I move the plants aside, following him into the deeper darkness under the rock. I touch something cold and freeze. I rub my hand over it, wondering if I could place a knee on it. It slithers out of my hand and I hold back a screech.

"Sorry," Jack says.

"What?" I whisper, heart jumping in my throat.

"Didn't I kick you?"

I breathe slowly. "There's a snake."

He curses quietly and stops somewhere ahead of me. I can hear his tired breathing and I withhold my own, listening to the rustling around me.

"It's heading towards you," I say.

I hear a crash and the tearing of plant fibres ahead and I quickly reverse out of the den, scraping the top of my head against the rock when I look up too soon.

I back up several feet and wait outside for something to happen. I can still hear the thrashing of human against plant, but on the other side of the rock.

"Jack?" I call out.

A pistol fires twice and I jump. My head spins and gray appears before my eyes.

"Jack?"

"Over here!" He shouts back.

"I'm staying on this side!"

"It's dead!" he calls.

"Then you come over here!"

"I can't."

I find my way to the nearest tree as it becomes harder to keep my eyelids open. I turn my back to it and sink to the ground, whispering a prayer that we'll be safe through the night.

"Lizbeth?" Jack calls. "Lizzie?"

~*o*~

_I stumble into a white hallway, tripping over a heavy skirt and falling to my hands and knees. I freeze, looking down the stretch of framed paintings and locked door handles to the white door at the end. Careful not to step on the dress, I regain my feet and walk towards my father's study._

_I pause at the end of the hallway, looking left into the next hall where my room was. Turning my attention back to the door in front of me, I try the latch. It's locked as always, but somehow it's more disappointing now._

"_You have to knock," someone says from within. I hesitate, but knock twice._

"_Come in."_

_I wait to hear the lock turn, but it doesn't. I turn the latch and the door opens. I step slowly into the room._

_ My father is sitting at his desk, his back turned and hunched over his writing._

_My heart in me throat, I venture further into the familiar room. The paintings on the wall are blurry, forgotten by my overburdened mind. _

"_Father?" I whisper. He'll disappear, I know._

"_Elizabeth?" he sounds surprised and he lifts his head, turning in his chair to look at me. He stands and comes towards me, wrapping me in his arms. It feels like it always did and I hug him back, closing my eyes and smiling._

_Then he draws back and sits in his chair. "What have you done?" he asks, horrified._

"_What do you mean?" I ask in sudden fear._

"_I've told you not to bring mud into the house," he scolds._

_I look down at my feet, only to find I can't. In horror I touch my swollen belly. What have I done?_

_"He left a year ago, didn't he?" My father asks in disdain._

_When he gets back..._

"_This isn't real," I remind myself._

"_What isn't?" Jack asks. I snap my head up. We're sitting on a beach, facing each other cross legged in the sand. "This?" he asks, and removes a chain from his pocket. On the end is the key, the one I've been obsessing over._

"_Give it here," I demand, snatching for it._

_He yanks it back. "No."_

"_Yes," I argue._

"_Persuade me," he says, eyes flashing, daring._

_I lunge for the key and wrap my hands around a snake instead, an enormous beast that whips sand in my eyes with its tail. I scramble backwards and stand, turning to a run. I head into the jungle and collide solidly with Oalan. He too shakes the key in front of my face, the chain wrapped around each of his fingers._

"_Thank you," I say cautiously, and take it from him._

_Then he pulls out a second key and I look at the one I'm holding, the metal having turned into a glass vial. "Tricked you," he laughs, and throws the key off to the side._

_I follow its path with my eyes and watch as Dorian snatches it out of the air. He examines it carefully and grins. "And now I hold all the cards."_

"_Please give it to me," I say, trying to control my temper._

"_It's just too valuable," he says, repeating words that I hadn't forgotten from my first dream. "You're just too valuable."_

_And I remember, I'm not here._

I wake standing with my forehead against a tree trunk, the angry bark digging into my skin. My hand is at my throat, where the key should be. With a shudder I pull away, looking around. I don't recognize my surroundings.

The first thing I do is find the dart tip, still buried in my arm. I can't see it but I try to pick it out. I don't stop when I feel a trickle of blood run down my arm, despite knowing I'm tearing skin in all the wrong places. I want it out.

"Jack?" I call, a tingling sensation creeping up my spine.

"I'm here," he says from beside me and I gasp in surprise. He has an armful of fruit which he dumps on the ground between us. "I brought food."

"From where?"

He points into the jungle. "What are you picking at?" He asks, watching the blood run down my arm.

"Just that piece of metal," I brush it off.

"Here," he says, and pulls a dagger from his coat. We sit in the mud and for the next quarter of an hour we eat and he removes the dart from my flesh. "There," he says in satisfaction, and holds the small tip up to eye level.

I know he isn't expecting a thank you but I say it anyway, quietly and slightly delayed. We stand together and continue onwards, ready to walk until we reach sand.

I see the key flash before my eyes, swinging from a tree branch up ahead. Disturbed, I walk past it, casually swinging my arm through the empty air to confirm that it isn't there.

I hug my coat to my body, despite the heat. Bugs buzz in my ears.

"What happened last night?" I ask Jack. He glances over his shoulder but keeps walking.

"The snake followed me out of the rock, so I shot it."

"It sounded like you were fighting with it."

He pauses and I can hear him breathing. "No, I shot it."

"Well where is it?"

"I don't want to know," he answers, and I get the sense that he's deeply bothered.

"It's dead, right?" I glance around our feet.

"If it was a normal snake, it would be. I'm hoping that it is. Little buggers are scary 'nough as they are."

I would raise an eyebrow but of course his back is turned.

"Scared of snakes?" I grin.

"I have no weaknesses." Jack smiles and looks back over his shoulder.

"I'm sure I could name a few."

He says nothing, but I can feel the grimace on his face.

I smile to myself.

**A/N: Thank you for reading, please leave a comment. Constructive criticism is welcome.**


	13. Lost in Time

A/N: Thanks pirateslifeformee, for the review and the compliment :)

* * *

Finally, there is sand beneath our feet. Jack kneels and kisses it, saying something quietly to himself. I walk past him to the water, dropping my coat along the way and looking up and down the shoreline. I remove my boots and drop them in the dry sand, then start walking along the edge of the water. I leave Jack to lie in the sun.

I'm feeling slightly delirious, intoxicated, and tired and the familiar sight of the sea eases my mind.

After five minutes, when Jack becomes a blur against the sand, I find footprints. For a moment I am comforted to know that they are our own, from days ago. They're far enough back on the beach that the water hasn't erased them. I can see them move off in groups of three into the jungle.

Then I look to the horizon and see nothing but waves, and my heart sinks.

~*o*~

"The ship is gone," I report. Jack doesn't move, resting in the sand. "What are we going to do?"

He cracks open an eyelid, then closes it again in disinterest. "Why don't you come up with the plan this time?"

"Really Jack."

"I get us out of all the messes."

"Not true, and you know it. Now help me think of something. We can't just lie on the beach all day."

"We very well could, but we shouldn't," he grunts and sits up.

I turn away from him and look out at the water, frustrated that once again I'm marooned and abandoned, alone but for the one man I can't seem to crack and will never understand. I can feel the heat on my face from the sun and the scratches across my cheek from the woman's sharp nails sting. I touch them to feel the slight swelling around the thin lines. Hopefully there's no infection.

I turn my head to the left, looking far away at the spot we had been let off before. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a ship bobbing on the waves. Snapping my head back around, I see the full cream sails turning to face the island. It's not far off, perhaps two hours away.

"There's a ship," I comment. I shield my eyes with a hand and squint. In shock I widen them, taking in the familiar contours of _The Dutchman._

"Where?" Jack asks. He sounds genuinely confused. The ship continues towards the island and I become more and more certain of which ship it is as I take in the faint silhouette of a figurehead. I let my hands fall to my sides in defeat.

"Nowhere, just thinking out loud." When I turn back to Jack, for the briefest moment he looks like someone else.

"Oh," he says, disappointed. As I stare, the image dissolves. When I look back to the ship, it too is gone.

As I fear my sanity may be.

~*o*~

"The beach is the safest place for us to be," Jack tells me, spreading out his coat on the sand and laying back on it. I can tell he's exhausted. He checks his dagger in his belt and reveals that he managed to keep his pistol as well, hidden beneath his coat.

"Nowhere is safe," I sigh. I ball my own coat into a pillow then throw it to the ground as well, wiping all of the sand away before resting my head on it. We fall silent for several moments, looking up.

"I keep looking at the stars," Jack says, "but I have no idea where we are."

"It's on one of my maps," I say, slipping into a trance as I watch the glowing lights. I recall the tiny dot with an 'E' scripted underneath it.

"And where are we?"

"It starts with an E." Jack doesn't ask anything further, knowing it really doesn't matter what that stands for or where we are, so long as we are here and set to remain here until we can come up with an escape plan. Tonight however, escape is past the limits of our tired bodies and souls.

"I had an odd dream last night," Jack changes the subject abruptly. "Maybe you're right about Dorian."

"I am right. The people here have the drug he makes so he must supply them with it," I say.

"In exchange for what?"

"I haven't quite figured it out yet, honestly. But it might have something to do with the water."

"The Fountain."

"Yes."

"So you do believe that's what it is?" Jack jumps on it.

"I've been thinking about what that woman said to me," I say, still gazing at the stars, wondering if _he _can see them reflected back in the water, wherever he is. The world is blue, the moon reflecting off the skies.

"What woman?" Jack asks, and I turn my head to him. How long was he really out for? When he turns to face me I look away, suddenly shy.

"The one who was talking to me when you were unconscious. She was leading the party that picked us up at the pond. She accused us of stealing and said we didn't deserve to live forever."

I stare at the sky, feeling his eyes on me still. I'm blinded by the moon. "Is that how you got these?" he asks, and I feel his hand brush over my cheek.

I touch the scratches. They've stopped bleeding but my fingers make them sting.

"How are you going to know if you've really found it?" I ask, ignoring his question.

"I suppose I won't for some years."

"But then you'll be too old to go searching for it, by the time you realize you've aged."

"I'd already stopped searching for it, remember?" he says sombrely.

"Do you still want it?" I ask. I remember his obsession with it, the need that seemed it would never end. The thing that drove us together again, his simple request for help that turned into my everyday life, searching for the Fountain. "I can't imagine why anyone would want to live forever. It would be too painful."

"How so?"

"Leaving people, having them leave you."

Jack sits up, then speaks quieter than before, "You haven't left him."

I think of changing the subject, feeling his eyes on my face, making it hard for me to speak. "But I have been," I sigh. "First off, I'm doing a terrible job of what he asked me to do. Secondly, since joining your crew I've been so otherwise preoccupied that I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've thought of him, and hardly consider the task of remembering him to be one of my more important duties."

"Then maybe you have left him" he says, and flops back down beside me.

"I've been living," I say.

"Then why would you _not_ want to live forever?" Jack asks, turning my question back on me.

"It's just more time to think about things," I say.

"Maybe you should stop thinking entirely," he suggests.

I can't help but smile. "If one of us doesn't start thinking, we'll be stuck here. Forever."

"Not with my brain," Jack objects. "But perhaps we will come across that tiny body of water again and take some of it with us, just in case."

"In case of what?" I ask, hoping he doesn't insist on wandering back there.

"In case you change your mind, or something very important requiring enchanted water and various other things in some form of a ritual comes along."

"The second is more likely," I laugh. I'd made it clear to him a long time ago that I wasn't interested.

"You still haven't given me a decent answer to my question," Jack points out.

"I don't want to live forever," I snap, and I feel Jack flinch slightly beside me. "No matter how many times you ask or how many years pass, I won't think any differently."

"But why not?" Jack asks after a pause.

"I'd rather die tomorrow," I sigh.

He lets the conversation trail off and we both shiver as a cool breeze comes off the water.

I close my eyes, lulling myself to sleep with the thought that that might happen. I imagine the tribe finding us, eating us. I see the Pearl, in the distance. I envision slamming Dorian's head against a rock until he bleeds.

My dreams turn to nightmares and the world turns to ash.

Sometimes I wish it would.


	14. Blue Feathers

**A/N- Exams are underway and I've found it hard to finish editing this chapter. Real life, I tell you. Thank you to those who have been reading this. Please tell me what you think, constructive criticism is welcome.**

**~Blue Feathers~**

* * *

A startled shout wakes me and I open my eyes, staring directly into someone else's watery gaze. I don't move, shocked to find someone so close to me. Then the stench of them reaches my nostrils and I shuffle up the slope of sand, dragging handfuls of it with me. A wave of heat brushes my cheeks and the sun reflects off the surface of the water, blinding me temporarily and erasing the scene before me.

I scream as the full object is revealed, a stake slammed into the ground and running up through someone's chin. The body is still attached; lying on its stomach with the neck arched back to elevate the head. The neck looks like it's been broken, snapped back at such an awful angle. Partially clotted blood runs from a swollen eyelid and the other eye stares blankly at where Jack and I had both been lying. I avert my eyes, looking to Jack. He reaches a hand towards the face, rings clacking together as he spreads his fingers apart.

"Don't _touch _it," I tell him, standing up and letting the handfuls of sand I had been clenching sift through my fingers. I swallow uncomfortably, embarrassed by my slip and wishing I could take back the startled screech that had torn out of my throat.

He ignores me and shuffles on his knees to the body, crouching down to look at the face. He reaches out and brushes the dirt away from a cheek, flicking it into the sand and rubbing the remains between his thumb and palm. The skin moves slightly but the face is stiff and gray, an unyielding mask of shock and pain. The flies have just arrived, buzzing irritatingly at my head.

I recognize the clothing on the man- a brown vest and bloodied white shirt similar to my own. A handful of feathers has been tossed to the side, plucked bloody from a blue parrot.

"It isn't Gibbs," Jack states, wiping his hands on his pants. "But that may be Cotton's bird."

"It's one of my crew members." I shake my head, feeling a burning cold seep into my skin as I begin to recognize individual features of the face.

Jack stands and starts walking down the beach, the sand falling from his knees. I trail after him, watching the trees as I run a finger along the blade of a bloodied and blue feather.

~*o*~

Jack falls first, landing somewhat gracefully on his hands. I stop, waiting for him to get up.

"You haven't even been drinking," I say, reaching for his arm. He grunts something in response and pushes himself from the stand, beginning to stand.

Before I can close my fingers around more than his shirt, he lets out a shout of surprise and falls back to the ground. He is dragged a couple of feet across the sand towards the trees, pulling the his shirt sleeve from my reaching hand.

I don't move, watching with raised eyebrows as he carves a path through the sand, dumbstruck. He kicks and flails his arms, stopping at the edge of first shadow of the trees. He stands quickly to face the jungle, still kicking at something about his feet.

Then he stills and neither of us moves, he staring into the greenery and I staring at him. He turns slowly to face me and takes a step my way, looking back over his shoulder at the dense wall of plants. He reaches down and untangles something from his leg, grimacing.

"What was that?" I ask, still frozen in place.

"A chord," he says, and holds up his hand. I can't see it.

"Come here," I say uncertainly.

He watches the ground as he walks, stepping carefully along the shallow trench he dug with his body. When he reaches me I look at what he's holding out to me pinched between two fingers. He does indeed have a fine silky thread, one neither of us could have seen from the distance of our eyes to the ground without intentionally looking for it. The sun catches it in the light, as thin as a spider's silk.

"Should we leave?" I ask quietly.

He leans forward and whispers so that I can feel the words touch my cheek, "They're in the trees."

We stand, knowing that the moment we run they'll come after us.

"Should we go back down the beach?" I whisper, tugging at the ends of my matted hair in thought.

"Then we can cut back through the trees," Jack agrees.

"How do we get there without them following?" I ask, realizing the hopelessness of our situation.

There's a faint whirring sound and a small feathered dart hits the sand beside us.

"Run!" Jack answers, and tugs me in the direction we had come from.

~*o*~

Running served us no good.

As we rounded a bend in the island, we ran smack into a wall of angry women. I've never seen such a large number of weapons pointed my way, the sharp ends of spears finger-lengths from my face.

We trudge back through the jungle, hands bound and blowguns aimed at our throats. We say nothing, knowing there is a possibility that we may still escape later.

Of course we both know there is nowhere to go if we do. The ships are gone and aren't coming back, of that I'm certain. Most likely we won't be as lucky as we were the first time, if it can be considered luck.

~*o*~

I sigh in frustration as we break through the trees into the enormous clearing, the village built up in trees bigger than I've ever seen or imagined.

Someone in our party shouts and doors open. Rope ladders made of jungle plants are thrown down and a swarm of women, men, and children climb down to the forest floor. A sort of pipe sounds from farther up one of the trees, near the very top of the tallest. They must be old trees, to be that tall. Perhaps a thousand years or more.

The crowd forms a circle around us and the women push us through them to the stage that the chief had commanded earlier. Hands reach down and pull us onto it while someone helps the chief up a set of small stairs in the back.

Once he comes to stand at the front of the platform the crowd falls silent, angry chanting forgotten.

The chief turns to us, his robe rustling against the wood floor the only sound apart from the birds.

"I see you have made it back," he grins. "You cannot outrun." He wags his finger at us. "I think you prove selves more than we thought you were. So we should like to have for next food." I can see Jack's eyes nearly bulging out of his head in my peripheral vision as he sways forwards on the balls of his feet. "We have lovely fruit and meat. We would like you to be guests of honour." I nod slowly, unsure what I'm agreeing to at this point and not wanting to seem rude, while feeling slightly relieved. "You sit both with me and dine," the man smiles. A confused murmur goes up around the crowd and the chief turns to address them, projecting as best he can with his frail voice. Confusion turns to slight anger and we watch in uncertainty as the people scramble away in all directions.

Six women remain behind, including the woman with one eye. They gesture for us to step off the platform and I climb down first, handing myself over to their bruising hands. As we walk towards one of the wider trees they loosen their hold on me and I walk alongside them.

At first the inside of the tree is dark, but the women open shutters and light animal fat candles to cast light on a living area. Blankets of fur and wool are placed around the edge of the room resembling beds. There is a trunk to one side that doesn't look crude enough to have been made by these people, as well as several crooked chairs and woven baskets. Snake skins have been strung from the ceiling, the undersides cracking and dry.

Jack has to duck in certain places because of the unevenness of the ceiling but not being particularly tall, I find it easy enough to stand in the center of the room.

The women rush to the trunk and the lid cracks open with a groan, revealing piles of brown and green. I stand awkwardly watching them while Jack wanders around and inspects the various trinkets and baskets lying around. His lips curl back as he nearly walks into a snake's curling skin.

I watch the women search for something, pulling objects from the trunk and discarding them on the floor. I don't understand how people can feel so comfortable wearing so very little. I think of my corsets tucked away in a closet back in Port Royal, or sold by now. I shudder to imagine the feeling of one and have to admit that these people may have reason to wear what they do, in this heat. I'm not a very modest person, having lived with the people I've lived with, but torn pants and shirts with broken buttons are my limit.

Jack walks up to me, a shiny object in his hands, twirling it around his fingers. I'm still watching the dressed-to-the-minimum women sort through their trunk, wondering what they're looking for, when Jack nudges me. "Admiring something?" he asks, narrowing his eyes teasingly.

I scowl at him just as the six of them turn around, various pieces of fabric held in their hands. I quirk an eyebrow, thinking there might actually be something worse than the time I allowed Jack to dress me in that corset and frilly purple thing months ago.

"Um," I manage. Jack snorts.

* * *

**Thank you for reading, please leave me a review.**

**And enjoy summer break, for other students out there :)**


	15. Reality

**Thank you to everyone who has been reading this story, adding it to their alerts, and favouriting it. Of course I'd love to hear what you think but I really appreciate it as is :) So thank you.**

**~Reality~**

Things begin to look up when the women put some of the 'clothing' items back and select new ones, choosing a black sort of shirt which turns out to be a corset, and a heavy black skirt to match it.

The woman with the missing eye carries them to me, wasting no time in unbuttoning my vest, or trying to. She twists the buttons clockwise then counter-clockwise, muttering in her language when she fails to get them undone.

Jack clears his throat and looks nonchalantly up at the ceiling, almost brushing his nose against it.

The woman looks up at me and points at the buttons. "You."

"Me?"

"You not wear that," she shakes her head.

I undo the buttons myself, removing the vest and reaching for the replacement garment. She pushes it into my hands.

The other women swarm forward, pushing Jack to the side as they tear clothes off of me and pull others on. I wonder at the strength in their arms as they pull at the strings at my front, suffocating me more than any dress from London possibly could. Or perhaps I'm just not used to this anymore. It doesn't help that I have clearly gained some weight, despite my failure to attend most meals with my crew and the now expected lack of food on ship. Perhaps it is that I have built up enough back muscle to support myself without a corset.

As the women put on petticoats and take them off again in frustration, I wonder at the origins of several corsets they fling about the room and eventually suck me into, as well as the dress and skirt that follow it. I feel sick to my stomach, and not from the remaining drugs in my bloodstream or the tightness in my chest.

"Where did you get this?" I gasp as the back zipper is ripped and yanked downwards, tearing a small gash in the shift beneath it.

The women step back to look at their work and I notice Jack going through the trunk himself, pulling out women's dresses and corsets, stockings and shoes... he lifts an expensive gold one from the bottom of the trunk and shows it to me from behind the smiling women, his eyes worried. I recognize the dress; recall seeing a slightly modified version of it back at Mervailles in Emily's closet. The beginning of a thought is interrupted by the door of the tree opening and two more of the natives walk in, carrying fresh clothing for Jack, as well as a tastefully feathered black hat, not unlike the one Dorian wears himself.

I find I want to kill him all the more, and he isn't even here.

I have no chance to tell Jack who these clothes have come from and I turn away while the women dress him, ignoring his running flirtatious commentary as the wheels begin to turn in my heat-oppressed brain.

Once we are completely and incorrectly dressed, the women sit themselves down in the centre of the hut. They take turns scooping coloured pigment from bowls they've mixed and paint each other's faces, speaking quietly and laughing loudly at things I don't understand.

Chatter starts up outside and one of the other women says "Finished, come," and pulls us to our feet.

I inhale sharply, breathing in the muggy air and wishing the corset weren't laced so tightly. I can feel the sun disappearing and am grateful for the cool breeze filtering through the trees.

When we step out into the clearing ahead an enormous bon fire has been started. Logs are still being thrown onto the pile in front of the platform and cinders shoot up into the air, sparkling in all directions. We are lead to the stairs around back of the structure and I have to lift my skirts for the first time in a long time to prevent my tripping. Six chairs have been brought out of the homes and placed beside the Chief's chair.

We sit on either side of it and the one-eyed woman sits at my end, leaving a space between us. The chief is once again helped up to the platform and onto his throne, to my left. He stares straight ahead at the fire, not sparing us a glance as he becomes comfortable. The larger woman who had first carried Jack from the jungle sits too, leaving a space between her and Jack.

The rest of the population stands in a wide circle around the fire, leaving the front closest to the stage open. I'm not sure what we're waiting for until I hear footsteps on the stairs. Two blonde-haired women are being led over to the two remaining chairs, dressed in similar fashions and nearly wheezing in the heat. The more frightened of the two sits beside me, and the other next to Jack. The rustling of her skirts never stops and I look pointedly at her fidgeting fingers until she stills.

She looks at me and I turn to stare straight ahead, hiding my confusion and fear. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jack turn his head slightly to say something to the other woman. I shift my eyes to the side, watching. She looks down at her knees but whispers something in return.

Jack looks back at me and his expression is grave. I continue to look ahead. The crowd begins muttering, a chanting mumble of ritual.

The girl beside me is shaking in her chair and I can see the slight quiver of her knee upon the wood boards. Her cream skirts drape across my own and her fear is highly distracting.

"Where are you from?" I whisper. The chief grabs my hand and I snap my head around. He nods in the direction of the fire, his eyes warning. I sit back in my chair and remain silent.

The crowd parts and two pale women are dragged into the small clear circle around the fire, dark hands grabbing at their hair and torn dresses tripping them as they struggle to get away. The chanting dies and the chief rises to his feet, one of his knees popping as he straightens.

After speaking for several moments in his raspy voice, he turns to Jack. "Sacrifice," he says.

Wide-eyed, I look at the two women. They look back at me, eyes glistening and chests heaving. I recognize one; the lady who glared at me when I first went to visit Dorian on his ship before everything happened, the one scrubbing the deck. I recall Dorian explaining that she, and the others, were his crew and willing to work for him in exchange for a better life.

"Sacrifice," the chief turns to me.

"For what?" Jack asks, calmer than I could have managed to sound.

"The ritual," the chief answers, watching the two women struggle. "The ritual for the island, for the water."

"What does that comprise of?" Jack asks.

The chief looks at him.

"What is the ritual?" he repeats.

The chief raises his hand and two small boys come forward, carrying daggers on the flats of their palms. Two men follow them and the four kneel at the base of the platform. The chief closes his eyes and recites something, then waves the men away again.

The things that happen next I wish never to have to remember again.

The crowd nearest the prisoners rushes forwards and grabs their arms, taking their legs when they kick out.

The small boys pass the daggers off to the men, who tear open the dresses of the two frightened women.

I've seen the after-effects of a heart ripped from a chest; a jagged scar and an eternity of blistering solitude. Or so I've imagined it to be. I have never seen a heart actually removed from a chest, or been so close to the procedure. I avert my eyes and shut them against the world, one that I can no longer recognize and am ashamed to be a part of.

I can only listen to the snapping of their ribs and the slicing of veins, the slick squelching sound as hands reach into their bodies, and the cries that choke off into nothing.

The woman next to me begins to cry.

The crowd is thrumming with energy- a smothering bloodlust that holds me still in my chair, looking ahead with eyes shut but fluttering at the memories. I try to suppress my shaking as I listen to the two young boys removing the organs from their proper places.

Unable to resist any longer, I spare a glance.

The bodies are thrown onto the fire by the older men and the hearts carried to the platform, raised above the younger boys' heads. The tribal women sitting with us kneel and take the bloodied pieces, standing to face their audience.

My corset is too tight, the fire too hot. There is no air to breathe and nowhere to look that isn't death. I let my eyelashes fall to my cheeks, but death still follows, burrowing through the layers of skin that make up my eyelids.

This is just a dream, the one that they've all been leading up to. The very core of my fears, replayed before my eyes, the horrific capacity of my imagination finally assaulting my brain.

The women take turns shouting something.

"Until we have the real heart," the chief translates. I open my eyes. Jack glances at me but I'm staring at the burning bodies, unable to move my eyes, unable to blink. "These will suffice."

I inhale quickly then choke at the thought of breathing in their ashes. _Just a dream, _my mind offers, dazed and confused.

A platter of fruit is held in front of my face and when I remember to breathe, I catch the scent of fresh pineapple. The slices smile, curving lips of yellow sunshine that I crush in my hand and make bleed.

The sickly sweet scent of reality.

* * *

**This chapter is the turning point for the plot in the story. It might have cleared a few things up, and hopefully revealed a little bit more about where the story is going and who is who. If not, there will be more time to figure it out. Thank you for reading!**

**Please feel free to point out mistakes, constructive criticism is appreciated.**

**-PoFS**


	16. Queen of Clubs, King of Hearts

**Thank you to everyone who has been adding this to their alerts and favourites over the past couple of months, and to those who review. **

In a daze I am pulled away from the dinner and led back to the house in the tree. I stand still as I am stripped and dressed in my own clothes, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind resulting in a messy collision of words. There is no chance of catching any of them, of holding them or reading them. I suppose this is what they call shock.

"What happens with their hearts?" I ask, staring at the wooden walls, watching rivulets of moisture run into the dirt floor. No one answers me. "What about the hearts... from the sacrifice."

~*o*~

When I wake I can still smell the blood. It's ingrained in my skin, buried in my nostrils, dripping off my fingers. I can hear a thousand pulses in my skull ripping at my tired eyelids, forcing them to open. The paint on my cheeks cracks and flakes off as I blink.

The room is black as pitch, even though I can feel a current of muggy air coming in through the open windows. I sit up on my mat and feel around for my vest. I find the buttons with blind fingers as I put it on, letting my eyes adjust to the dark. By the time I've finished I can see the room around me, full grotesque shapes scattered against black. The room breathes as a giant animal in a cave, individual breaths synchronized into one. I slow mine, afraid that the quietest shudder out of time might wake the beast.

I can see the door, unbarred and unguarded not four paces away. I rock forward onto my knees, feeling the damp dirt against my palms. As I'm about to crawl over to the exit a shout outside startles me. Several responding shouts follow and a horn sounds. I shut my eyes and clench the dirt.

The women sleeping around me sit up immediately. At the next shout they rush to their feet and I crawl over to the wall to avoid being trampled as they rush out of the tree.

I'm dragged out as well and my hands are tied in front of me in such haste and carelessness that I could get out of the knots in seconds. I don't however, knowing I couldn't leave Jack here by himself without feeling badly about it later.

The moon provides light outside but no clarity of the situation. I'm made to stand by the door and I wait with a woman and child while everyone else runs away in seemingly aimless directions. Then there is a pained shout- one I recognize to be Jack's- and the running stops. The young girl beside me grabs my hands and pulls me gently towards the light in the distance.

~*o*~

The circle is lit by twelve torches, placed at even intervals around the shape. The natives stand outside of it, but for the chief and the woman with the yellow thread through her eyelid. Jack is kneeling in the centre of the circle, hands tied behind his back by a thick chord of jungle vines. The grainy chords bite into his wrists and I watch with slight anxiety as blood drips to the ground from his lowered face. I stand at the edge of the circle, head held high to hide my fear, paralyzed.

The chief calls a name, and one of the small boys from the ceremony comes forward, carrying a rock the size of three of my fists. The chief nods towards Jack and the boy creeps towards him nervously, bending to set the stone in front of the kneeling man before leaping back to the safety of his family. Jack doesn't move, but continues to hang his head, chin nearly touching his chest. I wonder if he is still conscious.

The woman walks towards him and places a hand on the back of his head. He looks over his shoulder at her, straining to look up. He's bleeding above his eye, a clean cut from a knife. She pushes his head down and removes her fingers from his hair.

She comes to me and touches my forehead with her long yellow nails. Next she touches my cheek, the one she had torn open days ago. The scratches are still swollen purple lines across my face, surely infected and destined to become permanent scars.

The young boy pushes through the crowd again with a damp cloth in his hand, and hands it to the woman. She takes it from him and presses it to my cheek, wiping some sort of salve from the fabric onto my face. I flinch as it stings but don't move as it seeps into the wounds.

"Heal," she says softly, nodding to me. I touch the angry lines tentatively, expecting them to start burning. I have no time to figure out what this means before she tosses the rag back to the boy and retreats to the chief's side. He gestures for me to step fully into the circle. I do, which places me in front of Jack.

The chief, as short as he may be, looms over the two of us from across the ring. I feel a cold dread soaking into my skin and crawling into my heart. Jack lifts his face and his eyes are full of anger. I look on calmly, forbidding emotion to show in my face.

"He has run from us in the hopes of escaping with his immortality," the chief says, his voice disdainful, sucking the warmth out of the torches. "But he will not escape."

I watch as the anger leaves Jack's eyes and comes to mine instead. "You were going to leave me here?" I hiss.

He blinks, looking guilty. For the first time since setting sail, I want to slap him. I could have been gone ten minutes ago, slipped my bonds and run away in the confusion of the moment.

He shakes his head slightly, subtly. Then the chief is speaking again, and pointing at the rock.

My blood runs cold and I don't have to understand his words to know what he wants. The urge to slap anyone leaves me and I'm left with a pounding heart, my nails digging into my palms.

I've given much thought to this moment. I've always run the possibilities through my mind, wondering what exactly I would do if I had to kill him again. Would I have just shot him instead? Slit his throat? Mostly, I stopped thinking about such things when it started becoming me, when I could see blood. I am plagued by what I fear most, and by regret.

Now, standing in front of him with a rock in hand, I can't envision the next step. As frequently as I have contemplated different methods I could have done him in, I never got to the point of re-imagining his death. I would never have to kill him again, of that I had been certain.

I can see the end, a corpse rid of blood that once resembled a man. Heat rises to my face. As I imagine the still remains of his heart, I feel the pace of mine quicken and burn. The sharp grains of the rock dig into my fingers but I am unable to move my hand.

"A quick one to the head," Jack says under his breath.

I inhale, clearing my head. The rock falls to the ground and I move my foot out of the way for it to crash to the dirt. I jump slightly in surprise.

The chief snaps something and the little boy rushes forward, grabs the rock, and shoves it back into my empty hands. Meanwhile the natives start mumbling, a worrying chant that drowns out the flickering noise of the torches.

"How does the Fountain work?" I ask quickly and quietly, moving my lips as little as possible around the words.

"I've no idea," Jack responds, angling his head to the ground.

"Would you die if someone killed you?"

"I've no idea," he repeats, and looks up. "They seem to think so."

The chief steps towards us and I tighten my grip on the rock. "To the death," he bows his head.

I raise the rock, imagining it crashing into Jack's skull and killing him. I imagine being left alone in this place, with no chance of escape and nowhere to go if I could. No one to go to. I've learned that when I have no one, I tend to take what I can get. Although I don't care for him overly much most days. _I'd leave him now if it meant I could save myself, _I think. Although the words in my head surprise me, my selfishness does not.

Perhaps I'm lying.

"He won't die," I say.

"He can still feel," the chief snaps.

"I won't do it," I say firmly, lowering the rock once again.

"Why not?"

"Will you let me go?" I ask.

Silence.

"I'll take that to mean no."

"Bring the girls," the chief says to the little boy. He pushes his way into the crowd and sprints off into the dark, the wind from his passing making a torch flicker. "Kill him," he says to me.

"Better you than them," Jack mutters to me.

"It isn't about you," I snap. It's about how I'll feel later, knowing I'll have done it twice. It's about having nowhere to go if he's dead. It's about... damn him, I couldn't kill him if even if he was on his death bed.

"I can't," I say to the chief. Panic claws at my chest like a twisting corset.

"Yes," the man insists, the scar across his throat glinting white in the firelight as his Adam's apple bobs up and down.

"Why?" I ask, narrowing my eyes in stubbornness. "He can't be killed."

"I was going to leave you here luv," Jack says quietly. "I was running away without you."

"Liar," I hiss.

"I would leave you in a heartbeat, you know it. So take the goddamn rock and do something with it." I glare at him in frustration.

"And what of you?" The chief asks, eyes glinting as he looks at me.

"I can't be killed either," I say, raising my chin slightly, ignoring Jack.

"And why not?"

"Because Dorian will have all of your heads," I lie, taking a stab at something I'm uncertain of. In truth, Dorian probably sent us here and he'd be happy to see me dead. But if these people didn't know that, then it might get us out of this. If they have no idea who I'm talking about, then nothing is lost but what was already doomed.

The chief steps back, whispering something to the one-eyed woman. She stares at me, her pupil large in the dim light, like the eye of a cat. She steps towards me and cups my uninjured cheek with her hand, feeling my skin with the pads of her fingers.

"We know who you are?" she says.

"Leave me and my friend to go, please. We know Dorian."

She shakes her head. "That not what he want, and it our duty to protect."

"What does he want, then?" I ask.

She frowns and leans in close enough that I can feel her breath on my face.

"I cannot say," she tells me. "When you leave, he kill us if you tell he we tell you."

"You'll let me leave?" I ask. No sense asking who he is, my gut has been the only thing giving me honest answers lately.

"_If _you leave," she corrects herself. "First, protect water."

"Meaning what?"

"Kill thief," she turns to look at Jack before facing me again. "Only one man."

"Killing one man is as hard as killing three," I say. "And again, he can't die."

"He makes life less."

"Meaning what?"

"More that drink, less life for rest. What done cannot be undone, but punished."

"So if Jack has water from the Fountain, then the chief and you won't live as long," I try to clarify.

She shakes her head quickly.

"Chief not drink."

"No?"

"No, better if only one man, water save for other."

"Then how is it you have lived for a thousand years?" I ask.

"Only one woman. And I protect water. It doesn't make years less, it make strength less, make life less."

"That makes no sense," I scowl. "None of this makes any sense. You're all crazy," I say loudly, tossing the rock off to the side. "There is no such thing as the Fountain of Youth."

Just then the blonde women sitting on the platform with us earlier are led into the circle, dresses dirtied and torn, tears already making their eyes glassy.

"You will not end his life, and you refuse punish," the woman says. "One woman here punish instead."

"You'll have one of them kill this man?" I snort.

She nods.

"I don't understand what you think you're accomplishing. He can't die, and making him weak won't make you stronger. Besides, these women couldn't stomach it for long enough to cause any harm."

She pauses then and looks back at the chief. He frowns.

"Why are they here?" I ask, gesturing towards the two women. "Why are they even with us?"

"They protect."

I look to the two- younger than me but more worn. Nothing about them looks protective, hunched over in their quivering forms.

"You've lived for thousands of years, you told me that yourself. Surely others have come and gone, yet here you are still, and I doubt you're finding yourself weakened by this man's drink. The scar across my face proves that."

"Because of ritual, more people live forever," the woman frowns. "But without sacrifice, only one man, one woman _should _drink. Now we have five, with eternal life. And ritual support less than ten. We try save water for specials, until we have real heart."

"So...?" I ask.

"You lost me somewhere between living forever and flying to the sun," Jack mutters.

"Who are you?" the woman asks me, a sudden angry spark in her eyes.

"I- pardon?"

"If he sent you here, as you claim, then you must be the ones with the heart. You must have it in your possession."

The little boy presses the rock into my hands once again. I take it automatically, unconsciously.

"There's nothing more real about my heart than any others," I say quickly, crossing my arms protectively over the organ in question. Then the lights seem to shimmer and the black of the woods presses into the circle. "Whose heart do you need?" I ask, but as the torches float away from me and her face twists in an angry swirl of colour, I nod in realization. "I don't have it."

I let the rock smash into Jack's skull, as precisely and gently as possible, enough to knock him out but, hopefully, not cause any permanent damage. If one of us is getting out of here it's myself, and I'm running as far away as possible with a solid metal key in hand.

The chief smiles and the woman sighs in relief. She says, "You protect, like us." They turn away and their bodies fade into the dark, heading towards their homes.

"Sorry, Jack," I say, letting the rock thump to the ground. The crowd shatters, bodies moving in different directions as they return to their straw beds. The blonde ladies stand frozen together, fear stricken faces turned wearily towards me in a somewhat comical tableau.

Momentarily, we have been forgotten.

"Grab his feet," I command.

"Got them," says a gruff voice, and I straighten in surprise when Gibbs steps into the light and wraps his fingers around Jack's ankles.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! Constructive criticism is much appreciated.**

**The next chapter will hopefully not take as long as this one did.**


	17. Snake Eyes

**I had to remind myself where I left off when I started writing this again, so I'm sure I'll have to remind anyone who is still interested. Briefly- Jack and Gibbs drink from what they suppose was the Fountain of Youth, Elizabeth and Jack are taken by the natives of the island who protect it. Jack tries to escape on his own but is recaptured. As punishment, they want Elizabeth to beat him to death with a rock- though he _possibly_ cannot die. The woman says that they require "the heart" to better the immortality that the water provides.**

**This story just needed to be written, it's being nagging at me for the past year. Don't feel pressured to continue reading if you were before.**

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The woman stands still, looking at Jack's crumpled body as Gibbs and I struggle to lift his feet. The mention of the heart has my own racing, and my mind is panicking and tripping over itself. Jack's bleeding skull hardly affects me. The bloodied rock at my feet hardly makes me blink. All I can think about is protecting the heart from these people. The woman hovers stiffly.

"You go now. We know Dorian bring heart to us. That must be why you here, because he come to save our water, our life," her voice is suddenly gentle, almost hopelessly sad. As if she doesn't quite believe it. I can't quite believe it, that I ended up on this island, when I'm the one who knows where the heart is. I also can't quite believe that it has anything to do with sacrificing people and living forever.

I drop one of Jack's legs when he convulses and struggle to hold the other. I glance at the woman. "Thank you," is all I can think of to say, though my mind is screaming. Jack kicks out unconsciously and hits me in the ribs. I nod to Gibbs that we should leave.

The forest around us is harsh and unwelcoming but walking into it freely with hands unbound seems to soften the shadows around the trees. The light from the moon dims as we stumble further away from the tribes people, from their enormous tree homes, the torch-lit circle, the chief's platform where two women's hearts were ripped from their chests in a sacrifice to eternal life. The darkness becomes numbing, but I don't think for a moment that it is blind. I feel uneasy here.

"Wait," someone shouts behind us. I continue following Gibb's silhouette and the tug of Jack's body in his direction, ignoring the plea. "Please wait!" one of the blonde women shouts, the one who had been sitting on the platform next to me as we witnessed the murders.

Gibbs doesn't slow and I follow his example, knowing we can't risk stopping this close to where the tribe was just now returning to its sleep. "She'll catch up if she can," he huffs.

Minutes later, after wandering blindly through the dark and walking into more trees than I would care to, my shoulders are aching from the weight of Jack's body and my lungs are screaming.

"We should stop," I pant.

"Why?" Gibbs asks.

"Blundering through the woods at night is going to get us killed," I hiss.

"Fine," he says, and we set Jack down.

"Time for a break?" Jack's voice suddenly erupts from the dark, and I jump.

"Jack?" I ask, squinting at his body.

"Is me," he mumbles.

Gibbs helps him sit up. "After all that, and you just wake up when we set you down."

"Nah, I've been letting you carry me for a while now."

"If I wasn't so happy to be leaving those people I would slap you," I grumble. "Instead, I'm going to stand up and we're going to keep walking, and I'm not going to talk to you."

"You hit me over the head with a rock and _you're_ not going to talk to _me_?" Jack struggles to his feet.

"You told me to do it," I retort.

"I didn't think you would!"

"You didn't think I would hit you with a rock when I know you can't die and my life was also on the line?" _And Will's..._

"You didn't know I couldn't die, you said so yourself earlier!"

"You were running away without me!"

"Don't change the subject!"

"Fine, Jack. Be angry. We're free." I turn away from him and continue walking deeper into the forest. I cry out as something slams into my back and I fall forward onto my hands.

"Jack!" I shout angrily.

"Wasn't me," he says.

Snarling, I look behind me and realize the blonde has caught up with us and is now draped across me. "Are you crazy?" I'm up and spitting at her, pulling her from the dirt by the sleeves of her tattered dress. She pulls away from me, breath coming in loud wheezes. She tugs at the sides of her dress, trying to catch her breath.

"They were chasing me," she gasps.

"Wonderful. Finally, when we're free, you have to ruin things!"

"It's okay..." Jack begins.

"It is not okay!" I yell at him. "Now they'll be looking for her, and I am not so sure it was a unanimous decision to let us go."

"What if we can make it back into the jungle?" Jack suggests. "It's far more concealing than the woods come sunrise."

"How far is it?"

"We'll have to wait and see."

"Can't see anything," Gibbs grumbles quietly.

"It isn't far," the woman pipes up. "I've walked there before."

"Good," Jack says, "which way?"

"We'll hit it eventually if we keep the same course."

"You can't see which way we're going in the dark," I mutter.

"Ladies first," Jack says and the faint light filtering through the trees reflects off his smile.

Still trying to regain our breaths, the two of us move forward and Jack continues behind with Gibbs. All four of us strain our ears against the rustling of leaves, listening for anything larger than a mouse to move. All I can hear is the aggravating sound of the girl's dress getting caught up in plants and tearing.

"Will you take that off, already?" I eventually snap.

"Please do," Jack adds, and I can almost hear his smile. The girl remains quiet but there is suddenly less noise coming from her skirt. Without the sound, the small pattering of paws in the trees becomes more frightening by the second and we pick up the pace, wanting to reach jungle before daybreak. In barely constrained frustration I continuously help the girl up when she falls, prodding her forward when she stops to brush herself off.

We relax as the air becomes more humid, feeling the bark of the trees as they turn smoother. When we walk through the first wall of enormous leaves, the girl lets out a sigh of relief and steps ahead of me, taking the first step into jungle.

"So she knows the place," Jack observes, most likely to himself.

The heavy water in the air soaks into our clothing and runs off the leaves into our hair, making our progress slower but our throats less parched. I'm hesitant to even breath, afraid that the water I'm inhaling might change the rest of my life, and the length of it.

There is a dull thud next to one of the trees we pass and the four of us freeze; Gibbs in front, me with a hand brushing the skirt in front of me, Jack with a hand on the sleeve of my shirt and the other holding his pistol. The leaves rustle and the sound of something heavy slithering against mud reaches our oversensitive ears.

"Bloody hell," Jack exclaims, and cocks his pistol. He steps back from the noise. "Damned snakes."

"Should we keep going?" I whisper loudly, pushing the other woman in the direction we were headed, away from the snake. She walks a few steps that way before pausing and waiting for the answer. I pull my own pistol from my coat, grateful that the natives failed to recognize it as a weapon. If only I still had my sword.

The slithering stops.

"Keep walking," Jack says and brushes past me, nudging the blonde to continue. The slithering starts up again and I jump as I feel the thing move between my feet. I'd thought it was farther away.

I still my breath, waiting for it to pass through and keep going. Instead, it turns back around and I feel it on the outside of my right foot, weaving its way around my ankles.

"Um, Jack," I hiss.

The snake passes back in-between my feet, then around my other foot. I can feel its heavy weight resting on my ankles and I cock the gun, pointing the short barrel straight down. Where do you shoot a snake?

"Jack," I say again, but I can hear them getting farther away.

I remain still, forcing myself not to move or tense a muscle below the waist. "Jack!" I shout, finger pressed to the smooth trigger. If I aim incorrectly I'll hit my foot. I can't see the bloody thing.

Nobody answers me. Is he deaf?

The snake tenses at my voice and I feel the muscles pulsate as it restricting loops move up and its head continues to twist around my legs. I wish I were able to locate its head.

Suddenly the thing is touching my back and I flinch despite my best efforts, surprised as it rises higher than I expected.

"Elizabeth?" I hear Jack call then. "Are you alright?"

_Yes, don't worry, my usual luck has me about to be eaten by a giant reptile. I can't tell you that because it's crushing my lungs_. What the hell is up with this place? I've never really seen a jungle snake, but I'm pretty sure this is not how these things work.

The moon peaks out from behind its clouds, and the treetops above give way to its light. I am staring straight into the creature's eyes, and they stare back with disconcerting intelligence. Two bullet wounds stand out above its eye, Jack's gifts from a day past.

"The Fountain," I breathe, and the snake seems to cock its head. There is no way those bullets hadn't gone straight through its brain. Jack had proclaimed it dead. "It works, doesn't it? That's how you're alive." _Unfortunately for me._

It flashes its teeth at me and a black tongue darts out of its mouth. The weight around my body seems to increase as the animal tenses. Then its teeth are in my shoulder but I can't quite feel them yet, can't quite believe that this is how I will die.

~*O*~

The gray curtains wait for me, the endless veils of unconsciousness where I can't feel pain. This time they shift into the white floors of the Dorian's house on Mervailles. Before me, the key to the chest lies on the marble, dull and dusty. As I bend down, I glance around, but there is no one there to snatch it from me this time. I touch the cold metal and brush the dust away.

It reminds me of the smooth scales of a snake, cold and slightly damp, and it seems to writhe in my fingers. I remind myself it's just a key, and that's what it becomes.

The hallway is no longer empty though. The snake itself lies coiled at the far end. Unflinchingly, I move towards it. It lifts its head, nearly as big as my own. Its eyes glisten and wink at me, begging me to come closer. I reach out and touch it between the eyes.

The moment my skin makes contact, the snake shatters. It becomes a flood of small vials, rolling around my feet. I don't need to see the small horse head symbol on them to know they are Dorian's drugs.

Snake venom...

A door creaks open at the end of the hallway. Shadows flicker out into the hallway. I walk towards it, but the snake is there again, blocking my path. I drop the key in surprise and its tail flicks out to grab it. Then it slithers through the doorway and I can only follow its dull black scales.

The next room is Dorian's cabin on _The Enigma_, and it isn't empty. Dorian is lying on his bed while the women of his crew flutter frantically around him. "What's happened?" I ask, stopping as the snake slithers onto the sheets and curls its body around the headboard.

"He just passed out," one of the women answers, confused. The snake hovers over him, black tongue flicking out to touch his face. The women don't seem to notice. "How did you get on the ship?" She sounds suspicious.

"Leave him," I say to them, ignoring the question. There are three of them, and they all hesitate and stare at me before nervously exiting the room.

The snake looks at me, and its face splits open in a wide grin before its head flashes out and it latches onto Dorian's neck. His body jolts and his eyes open, fixed on me.

"You're supposed to be on the island," he gasps, then cries out when he begins to feel the fangs buried in his neck.

"I am on the island..." I say.

Dorian is punching the snake, and then clutching at its body in agony. His forehead begins to bleed and I walk to his bedside. Two bullet wounds sit above his left eyebrow.

The snake releases him and begins slithering off the bed, shedding its skin as it leaves, a thin membrane that gives way to the shiniest black.

"Get out of my head," Dorian yells at me, and his hand is flying at my face.

The room changes, becomes the jungle again. The woman with the yellow thread through her closed eyelid crouches near the double pond that is the Fountain. A great tiger drinks from the opposite side, eyes fixed on the woman before her. She looks up at me, startled by my presence. I notice gray patches in its fur, old wounds that scarred and left no hair, only puckered skin and mangled flesh.

"Always there is sacrifice, when drink from water," the woman answers, though she never looks at me. "We leave part of selves vulnerable. Part of selves that is part of island."

I look on with fascination at the cat as it walks around the water to the woman's side. Then the woman begins to pull at the threads in her eyelid, watching her reflection in the water as she does. Tiny beads of blood well up. Once she is finished, she turns to the tigress and rests her hand on her head. I watch silently as her eye reforms, a small stem of pink flesh that becomes a white orb. She then turns to me, and her new eye is milky and unseeing, but completely there.

"So this is immortality..?"

"If one live forever, heal forever, one must keep balance."

This is by far the strangest hallucination I've had yet.

"But Dorian is paying rather than receiving."

"Things not balanced. Without true heart for ritual, sometimes the sacrifice will sacrifice you to save self."

"Are these animals, these sacrifices... real?"

"Are they?" the woman grins. "I am only woman who drink the water. Remember I tell you before, water only give true life to one man, one woman. And now there are three too many men who drink. They be unsafe. I create balance, with my other half. The souls that have been chosen to be those men's vessels, the sacrifices, they not at peace with this trade."

"Do all those who drink the water have one of these vessels?" The word feels odd in my mouth.

"Of course, child. Though some take other forms. This tiger I save from sickness. She become my vessel willingly."

"Right." And that's all I can say, staring dumbstruck at the woman and her beast.

"Fix the balance, to save others. You will need special heart before this gift takes toll."

~*O*~

I come to gasping for air, to discover that I am still fully upright with a giant snake suffocating me. I feel no bites on my shoulder, and its teeth are still gleaming white. Its eyes bore into mine, hypnotizing. Then its body begins to relax and I notice that the bullet wounds have simply turned into faint marks in the snake's new skin. Perhaps not with its venom, but I feel it has immobilized me with its eyes, because I cannot move. Then it blinks, and I'm released. Its body relaxes and drops away from mine, uncoiling and untangling itself.

"Why did you show me that?" I call after it, inhaling deeply.

Then I see Jack standing there, pistol pointed at the ground, shaking. "So you're talking to it. That friendship formed quickly." Jack tries a smile, but I can see for sure now that snakes might just be one of his weaknesses.

I can't say anything, can't come up with any response as I stare at him.

"Blink, 'Lizabeth, please don't tell me it paralyzed you," he suddenly looks serious. Gibbs and the blonde appear behind Jack.

"What's going on?" He asks.

"I'm just suddenly realizing what a bad idea it was for you two to drink that water."


	18. An Eye For An Eye

**It's been a while, I know. Apologies. ****This chapter was half written a few months ago so it was kind of difficult getting back into it and figuring out where I had specifically meant it to go. I had to find all of my notes again!**

**Rachel- Thank you so much for reading both of these stories from the beginning, and for letting me know you enjoy them!**

**A/N: In the previous chapter Elizabeth encountered the snake that Jack had shot in the head, twice. She passed out and saw Dorian receiving similar wounds to the head from the animal. She also saw the one eyed woman's eye grow back, the woman also explained to her that the imbalance from too many men drinking from the fountain was becoming dangerous to the drinkers.**

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I consider Jack's idea of becoming immortal, this fabricated dream of eternal glory and recognition, of youth. We had believed it together, though I was certainly looking more at the negative realities of the circumstances. Now I've pulled back the protective peel of that fruit, and what I've seen beneath it is sorcery crawling with festering dreams. My dreams specifically because I had hoped deep down and secretly that immortality might remedy my feeling of having a life without purpose.

My eyes are burning, as the snake had burned a portal into that dream world- a world that is perhaps more real than the one I believe I am standing in. Or it is a lie created by the habit of my brain to bend the things around me into shapes I do not wish to see them become. The snake that Jack shot in the head- did it truly transfer its pain to Dorian, somewhere away from the island? Is a little sparrow bird going to come take Jack's pain away from him, or give him its own? By chance this dream may only be a leftover effect of Dorian's drugs, one that I no longer see fading away in the near future.

The sun breaks through the coverage of trees and I am almost surprised to see it there. I look at it, squinting, wondering how it could have reached that point.

"It's day," I state. My voice is abstract, not seeming to fit with the voices in my head that are truly _me._

"You passed out," Gibbs says. "We couldn't wake you."

I nearly jump to my feet. "We should keep moving."

No one listens, staring at me with openly argumentative faces. The three of them look exhausted, frightened and unmotivated. I look at Jack, then Gibbs. The man looks no younger than before his drink from the water, and no wiser. Jack's face remains as scarred as it was before, with the addition of the bloodied temple I had given him. The blood has stained the side of his face, and the collar of his shirt is a muddied brown.

"How is your head?" I ask, my voice tripping over its nerves. I want him to say that it hurts, that it hasn't miraculously cured itself after an odd dream involving animals in the middle of the night.

"Think the brain might be crushed a li'l, but I'm as clever as ever," Jack grins.

"But it's still there, right? The injury?"

"No, it healed in the last hour."

I stare at him, my eyes widening in horror.

"'Course it's still there!" Jack looks annoyed, then he adds, "Even if you hit like a girl."

The blonde woman is still with us, and I had almost forgotten her in her quiet detachment from the group. When I turn to her, I catch it. The faint glare of light across her eyes, the slight squint of her eyelids as she watches us.

"You know something," I nod towards her. "You understand what's happening."

She takes a step back and raises her hands palms out, as if to physically ward off my accusations.

"Please," I try. "That pool... I need to know anything that might help."

"Help us get rescued?" Gibbs chimes in, hopeful.

"I don't know where your ship went," the woman says apologetically, and her voice comes out soft and shy.

"That's not what I meant," I tell her, more gently. She remains quiet, nervously fluttering her fingers against her dress. This tactic is not going to work. "How did you get here?"

"Ship," she answers. I wait for more, but it doesn't come. Jack's rolls his eyes at me.

"Whose?"

"Can't say."

"Fine. Were you aware that you were going to be left here?"

"Of course, I volunteered," she smiles at me, like she were educating a child.

"For what?"

"To wait here."

"Listen—"

"Hush, luv," Jack cuts in. "Your interrogational abilities are ineffective and unskilled."

I would say I'm losing my patience, but it's already left, gone to join my sanity and well-rested nights somewhere amongst the stars. I let Jack proceed with my 'interrogation' but not without a well directed glare in his direction.

"Why are you waiting?" he turns to the woman. "And who or what are you waiting for?"

"I was _going _to ask that next," I snap.

"I can't tell you," the woman says, and I can see her eyes lock- tiny bolts sliding home to bar her secrets.

"What is Dorian making you wait for?" Jack continues.

"Can't say," she repeats.

"So it _was_ Dorian's ship," I say, noticing her slip. "You're working for him. There is some reason why he needs you here. Were you next to give your heart?" I step towards her, suddenly finding eagerness beneath my fatigue.

"You think I would volunteer to have my heart ripped from my chest?" She laughs, eyebrows raised. Amused, incredulous.

"Some people have been quite enthusiastic about that idea in the past," Jack says. "In fact, I once sailed with a lad who went looking for the opportunity to carve his heart out. 'Course, I helped him find what he was looking for; I'm quite good at finding things." A quick smile, then a nervous look in my direction. "Not that... I put the idea in his head or nothin'. Or that I tell this story to everyone. Or that I disrespect that lad I sailed with once, when he was alive. Well, I mean, not dead." He looks at me while he talks, wincing as he does. He glances back at Gibbs, including everyone in the story now. "Not quite sure he was that excited to cut his heart out by the end, but it happened anyway, and despite the _horror _of it all, we all lived happily ever after. And maybe even ever, ever, ever, ever after. And that counts for something eh?"

"Shut up, Jack," I say.

"I mean, everyone but dear Lizzie, because she isn't immortal," he looks back at the woman, then to me. A quick smile. "Or happy."

"You're always so honest when I need you to be, Jack." I take a step away from him, towards the trees. "We need to leave."

"I suppose you have a plan to get us all off this island?" The woman nearly sneers. No one can quite see it but I notice it at the edges of her words.

"No, but waiting here won't do it. And I never said any of you were invited," I smile. Gibbs folds his arms. "Maybe you."

"You wouldn't leave me here." Jack says, and begins to follow me through the trees in the direction that I am hoping will lead to the beach.

"I might. After all, I'm just so unhappy and so very mortal that I can't waste a single moment more trapped in this place with you."

~*O*~

The island opens with a wide beach, at least sixty feet of sand from water at low tide to the tree line. The beach never seems to extend out in either direction, always curving back into the island as if it were a perfect circle.

"Is this near where we were last time?" I turn to Jack, confused.

"Hm..."

"Don't matter," says Gibbs, his voice shaking and excited. I turn to glare at him but my eye catches his pointing finger instead, following the line of it to the ship anchored a ways off. All of us turn to stare at it.

"That's my ship," I say, unmoving.

"And I think it's right where we left it," Jack says, almost triumphantly, and begins walking toward it.

"But it was gone." I'm still standing there.

"Looks like it came back," Jack calls from ahead and I can't stand there stunned any longer, or perhaps _they _will leave without _me_.

~*O*~

It takes an hour before a long boat is finally rowed to shore for us, and two oarsmen row us back, grumbling moodily to each other in French.

"How long has it been since we arrived on this island?" Gibbs interrupts their muttering.

"How long has it been since I touched rum?" Jack mutters, the excitement of our easy escape already faded.

"It waits for you, _capitaine_" one of the rowers replies, sweat beading down his forehead and bare chest as he pulls at his oar.

"I'm your captain," I snap.

"Yes Captain, sorry Cap'n," he corrects himself in a thick accent.

"I'm still a captain though," Jack lifts a finger.

"Right Captain, o'course Cap'n." The rower nods.

"But not _the captain, _th_—"_

"Are you two serious?" The woman says from her seat behind me. Neither of us answers. It's a long trip back to the ship.

~*O*~

The moment I grab for the hand reaching down to help me onto the deck, I'm searching for Oalan. I spot him instantly, not a foot away from me, watching as we board.

"You took my ship," I say quietly to him, so only he might hear me.

"Took it...?"

"I wonder though, what made you come back?"

"I... I've taken no ship."

"It wasn't here when we returned the first day. And you and I both know who was responsible."

"Ship's been here, I swear it. We ain't moved. Been waitin' and waitin'," he grins. "Went through a storm. You feelin' alright?"

"Storms?" I ask, disbelieving. "You moved the ship halfway around the island, because there were _storms... _approaching."

"Ship hasn't moved, I swear it."

I do vaguely remember the smudge on the horizon, but nothing hitting the island. "You moved the ship, and you didn't want to notify your Captain, or anyone else, before relocating _my ship_ to where it is now." I pull him away from the crowd. "We were hardly gone for a day before we came back to find it gone the first time!"

"A day? We sent a messenger... ain't he with you?" he says, scowling at me, confused.

"We never saw him."

"Ya, we sent 'im with 'is parrot. Damned bird ain't showed back here neither."

A cold feeling spreads across my face and chest. I remember waking up to the body on the beach, bloated past recognition, blue blood-spattered feathers spread across the sand. Cotton. I grab Oalan's arm, digging my fingernails into his shirt, and beneath that his skin.

"But you've been here the entire time, right here?"

"Right here, jus' waitin' the full four hours. They was out lookin' for you an' somes were sayin' we should just be leavin' you an' dear me, I told 'em we coul'nt leave no pregnant woman out 'ere, there coul' be cannibals an' such. An' then we all been searchin' for ye since." He half winks as he looks down at me.

"For hours? You mean three days, more like," I say. His smile falters and I release his arm and turn away in disgust. "Where is my first mate? Tai Huang!"

"Dead, Cap'n," Oalan answers instead. "And what do you mean, three days? You were on the island for four hours, no more. Slightly less, I say."

I can feel pressure behind my eyes, a headache coming on. "Four... what?" But I can't finish the thought because this isn't any stranger than what I've dreamed about. "Dead?" I ask instead.

"Not an hour ago."

I snap at him, "What happened?"

Oalan hesitates, then says, "Had his skull bashed in for 'im."

"By whom?"

He swallows nervously, and his green eyes travel to his feet. "Some o' the crew saw it happen. Say his head jus' caved when he was standin' there." His voice is quiet now, solemn and free of amusement.

I turn away in silence and find Jack regrouping with several of his crew members, speaking in hushed voices. His back is to me and as I reach him, I lift a hand and pull the bandana from his head. He whirls around, fist clenched, eyes startled to see me. I ignore his anger and run my fingers through the hair at his temple. There isn't a single mark on him to prove that I did what I did to him. My work has been completely undone. He grabs my wrist, but I've already seen everything I needed to see.

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**If you're still reading, thank you!**


	19. Side Effects

**This is much sooner than I usually post a chapter, but it's short and I'm motivated. Thank you to those who have just added this to their favourites and alerts, I appreciate you're reading!**

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The storm had hit yesterday, a violent upheaval of water and sky throw against each other repeatedly, endlessly. The island is far behind us now; no one had suggested taking shelter ashore.

I feel slightly less shaky now that we are gone from that place. The dizzying greenery still clouds my dreams, and I can still feel the weight of the reptile curled around my body, crushing me, but when I wake it is gone entirely. However my other hallucinations seem to be growing worse with my anxiety over retrieving the key and chest. Dorian has half a day on us and my pulse races to think of what would happen were he to find it first.

I don't want to believe that he directed us to that island intentionally with the purchase of diseased livestock and foul water, but the men say it must be so, else-wise his own stock would be the same. Despite their doubt, I know he wouldn't have done it. When we first set out from Singapore, Jack was on his ship, not this one. This plan wouldn't have worked to get rid of him, and I can't see why he would need to eliminate me and not Jack. I can only hope that the storm abates and allows us to reach Mervailles within the next few days, for we will not survive off of the last shares of rum and crackers for much longer.

More of the crew have fallen ill since our departure, causing dissension amongst the men. Tai Huang's death has everyone uneasy, eyeing their brothers suspiciously and with much hostility. Only I truly understand what happened, that Jack's injury was transferred to my first mate, and that he died for it. I wonder if Dorian is dead yet after having taken wounds to the head from the snake Jack shot twice. Part of me would be glad, though I see no way of remedying our situation without his aid, and despite myself, I do trust him.

I sit with my back against the window, where the lightning flashes against the waves. When the door opens, I don't get up, but beckon the stooped man closer. The ship bucks and his knees tremble, in a panic he reaches out to grab the table. I pretend not to notice, continuing to watch the waves outside. Once he's steadied himself, he walks like a drunkard to my side and kneels before me on the damp rug.

"Captain," he acknowledges.

"Doctor," I return. His left hand is wrapped in linens and exuding a foul stench, and his other hand is wrinkled and dry. I meet his milky gaze and wonder at the power of this man to heal himself, let alone anyone else.

"Are you feeling ill?"

"Yes, I have been... I suppose it's time I asked you to do something for me. Understand, doctor, that nothing leaves this room," I pause and gesture for him to sit in the chair beside me. He wheezes as he pulls himself up. "I admire your efforts with the crew through this time and it would be a pity were you to be too indisposed to continue helping them. So not a word."

"Yes, yes, of course," he stammers, folding his hands together. "Unfortunately, I do not have the proper medicines nor the experience to cure this disease, but for you I will try all I can to save you."

"I don't have the disease, doctor."

His hairless brows lift, and the wrinkles fold around his eyes in a way that says there was a time when he must have smiled much. "Oh... Oh, well. Good."

I take a deep breath and look back out the window at the storm. "It is something else." I hand him the vial I have been holding for the last half hour, with the horse head seal. "In that vial there is a drug. I want you to test its effects."

"Captain?"

"Find a man-not one of your sick, dying ones- and test the effects."

"On your own crew?" He fumbles over the words, grasping the vial loosely in his shaky hands.

"Watch, you'll drop it," I snap. He folds the glass into his clothing and brings his hands together again, picking at the edge of his bandage. "Make notes, record your observations. I want you to come see me every day, twice a day even, and tell me what's happened."

"For how long?"

"I haven't decided yet, it will depend on the first few days, I think."

"But I can't just... _give this _to someone, can I? Surely, no one under your command will agree to this." I can see the judgement in his eyes, and fear.

"Not my command, and no one is agreeing to anything. They shan't know what is happening. You will slip this to them in a drink perhaps, tell them they look ill and have need of your medicine. You will then be able to closely watch them as they will probably think they are suffering from the disease. Keep him close. I have already chosen my man, the perfect test subject. He's strong and healthy, young as well, but he's a bother and I cannot trust such a man. Can I trust you, Doctor?"

"Name him, Captain. I will tell no one, I swear it." His eyes are watering in this light, and I know that any threat will make him loyal to me, but that under pressure he will be equally as ready to turn against me.

I give him a reassuring smile. "Wonderful."


End file.
